Empty Chairs
by f1gymnast
Summary: The musketeers are attacked on their way back from Bordeaux separating one from the other three. Injured and hurting the musketeer experiences a range of emotions. Set roughly after S1 Ep10. Contains potentially upsetting scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. I'm currently struggling with writer's block for another story so I'm trying to push through it with this which came to mind. It probably isn't as well thought out as usual and will hopefully only be a few chapters long (I'm terrible at estimating). Anything that doesn't make sense please let me know. Set after S1 Ep10.  
**

 **Warning: This contains potentially upsetting scenes.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Musketeers.**

 **All mistakes are mine so please let me know of any large errors or irrritating errors. :)**

 **This story was inspired by this song.**

 **There's a grief that can't be spoken**  
 **There's a pain goes on and on**  
 **Empty chairs at empty tables**  
 **Now my friends are dead and gone**

 **Oh my friends, my friends forgive me**  
 **That I live and you are gone**  
 **There's a grief that can't be spoken,**  
 **And there's a pain goes on and on**

 **Phantom faces at the window,**  
 **Phantom shadows on the floor,**  
 **Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more.**  
 **Oh my friends, my friends don't ask me**  
 **What your sacrifice was for**  
 **Empty chairs at empty tables**  
 **Where my friend will sing no more.**

 **Les Misérables – (Abridged)**

* * *

Empty Chairs

The musketeers were travelling back from Bordeaux after delivering a letter from the King for the Duke. The Duke had taken some time to form his reply and the weather had been hot and humid for the days of their trip there and back. Finally, they had been able to leave with the Duke's reply and were now close to Paris after riding through the scorching sun and thick humidity for a few days.

'Finally, we can get back,' Aramis mumbled with the brim of his hat low over his eyes.

'Yeah, it's been too hot and I just want to sleep forever,' Porthos agreed.

'I don't know why, but this trip has been worse than the others,' D'Artagnan said as he wiped his sweaty brow.

'The Duke was a pain making us wait outside and then taking forever to write his reply. He could have at least fed us!' Porthos said with exasperation.

'You know the nobles don't want to be sullied by us,' Aramis chortled with a grin.

'We're the King's personal guard! What can he have against us?' D'Artagnan said looking weary.

'He still considers us far beneath him,' Athos spoke at last. 'We are just servants.'

'Good to hear your voice,' Porthos smiled but Athos couldn't see as he had the brim of his hat well over his eyes.

'Thought you were dead for a moment,' Aramis winked at Porthos and D'Artagnan who laughed.

'I will be if we don't stop for water soon,' Athos said with a sigh.

'There's a stream up ahead,' D'Artagnan said as he saw the trees nearby where they had filled up their water on their way there.

'And shade,' Aramis muttered. He had somehow managed to catch a cold before they left and was still feeling rather hot although thankfully the worst had passed during the first days of their trip.

They approached the trees and all let out audible sighs as they entered the shade.

'That's better,' Porthos sighed as he undid his leather doublet and made his way down to the stream.

The others followed suit and quickly filled their canteens to brim with water before scooping water out of the stream with their hands.

'I think we should rest for a while,' Athos said as he daubed his sunburnt neck.

'Ouch,' Aramis winced as he saw Athos' neck. 'I think I have something for that,' he said as moved towards his horse.

'I'm ok,' Athos said but he looked weary. 'Thanks,' he said as he took the tin of paste from Aramis who returned moments later.

Soon the musketeers were lying down in the shade resting as the sun passed midday. They agreed to start their journey again in about half an hour. The shade was good for the horses as well as the horses had shown signs of overheating.

The musketeers were unaware that they were being watched. The Duke of Lorraine was not happy with the correspondence King Louis had with the Duke of Bordeaux. Lorraine was out of favour with the King and the he wanted to know what the King was saying to the other prominent dukes of France.

Word of the letter had been leaked and the letter was of value to know what was being discussed. The Duke's men knew that the musketeers could never remain alive as it would risk the Duke's exposure. It would be best for the King to believe that bandits had attacked the musketeers rather than soldiers as that would divert suspicion. The musketeers would know straight away that had been attacked by skilled men so the orders were dispose of all the King's men.

Aramis slowly sat upright as heard a different noise that came from his right. The others watched him carefully and kept quiet with their postures relaxed. The look he gave them told them that they were not alone and whoever it was in the trees on his right.

Aramis blinked slowly, then again and on the third blink the musketeers sprang into action as the hastened towards their weapons that they had left nearby.

A shot rang out from the direction Aramis had been looking and Aramis hissed with pain as the shot grazed his left forearm. He didn't have time to worry about it as more shots rang out simultaneously. The musketeers grabbed their weapons and saw their attackers racing towards them.

There were at least twenty men and some still had pistols raised. The musketeers dived behind the largest trees next to them and heard the shots ricochet off the wood. Once the volley of bullets had ended Aramis moved quickly and shot two men quickly and accurately. Porthos hit his target in the thigh and though the shot didn't kill the man instantly the amount of blood flowing from the wound suggested an arterial shot.

Athos' shot hit the man in the chest and most likely the heart while D'Artagnan's shot caught the shoulder of his man but it was unlikely to be fatal.

'You're outnumbered,' a tall man called. 'You can't win. Give us the letter from the Duke of Bordeaux and you can be on your way.'

'If we don't?' Athos asked with his usual drawl.

'You're dead,' the man laughed.

'Can we think about that for a moment?' Aramis asked jovially as he reloaded his pistols. 'It's something we need to discuss.'

Athos, Porthos and Aramis directed their looks to D'Artagnan. Their message was clear. 'You have the letter and you will ride back to Paris while we fight.' All of the men were quickly reloading their pistols.

D'Artagnan grimaced and gave a pleading look but he knew the letter was important and had to be the priority. The horses were scattered but close-by. D'Artagnan could see his horse and knew he had to make a run for it while the others covered him.

It was then that D'Artagnan noticed Athos' thigh was bleeding and signalled to Aramis who shrugged. This wasn't the time to worry about Athos as there was still a job to do.

'Time's up,' shouted the tall man.

'So it is,' Athos responded as Aramis and Porthos took their shots hitting three men who dropped like marionettes who had had their strings cut.

D'Artagnan ran as fast as he could towards his horse as he heard shots being fired all around. Thankfully his horse hadn't bolted at the shots as he saw his rider approaching.

D'Artagnan mounted and then gave one last look towards his brothers. The shots had all been fired and now the swords were drawn. D'Artagnan turned and kicked his horse forward and rode for Paris as fast as he could.

* * *

He knew he was being chased but he also knew his horse was fast. The two men continued to give chase and D'Artagnan could feel his horse's energy fading. A shot rang out and D'Artagnan felt a searing pain through his right shoulder. He struggled to keep hold of the reins and reached for his pistol. He turned his horse around and aimed with his left hand. Aramis had insisted that he learn with both hands just in case of situations like this.

He aimed and shot hitting one of the riders square in the chest. He was rather proud of himself but the good feeling didn't last long as the second man shot his pistol but the aim was wayward. D'Artagnan gathered himself and tried to focus and ignore the pain.

Athos had shown him how to throw his dagger effectively just last week. He gripped the blade and watched the man approach. He kept calm and threw his dagger hitting the man in the leg, not where he intended, and the man fell from his horse. D'Artagnan quickly dismounted as the man tried to recover from the fall. D'Artagnan knelt on his chest to stop him rising and placed his left hand on the dagger in the man's thigh.

'Who do you work for?' D'Artagnan asked.

'Your mother,' the man spat back and yelled as D'Artagnan twisted the dagger.

'Who?' D'Artagnan asked heatedly as he dug his knee into the man's chest. Porthos had always said this was effective in keeping a man down as it restricted breathing.

'Go...to hell,' the man gasped. The eyes of the two men met and D'Artagnan knew he wouldn't get the answer he sought. He pulled the dagger from the man's leg and thrust it into his chest. Moments later the man stopped breathing.

D'Artagnan collapsed to the ground as his energy left him. He didn't know how long he sat there but he was jolted by his horse nudging him. Paris was close and he knew he had to get the letter back. His brothers were relying on him.

* * *

D'Artagnan ran as the shots were fired and the remaining musketeers knew they had a big fight on their hands.

The musketeers were accurate with their shots but thankfully none of the returning shots hit any of them.

'The young one ran,' the man who had been talking shouted. 'You two go after him,' he ordered to two men.

The musketeers grimaced as they had hoped D'Artagnan would get away unseen. D'Artagnan would have to have his wits about him.

They launched into their attacked with their swords and daggers drawn. The men attacked as well and soon the musketeers were battling for their lives. Athos killed two men with one swipe of his sword but another caught him in the back of his injured left leg and he crumpled to the floor.

'Athos!' Porthos shouted as he saw his brother go down. He had already killed one man with his dagger now stuck in the man's throat. Unfortunately, that meant he had lost his dagger. He sliced another man's thigh and wounded another before he felt the butt of a pistol hit the back of his head and he too fell.

Aramis continued to fight as he killed one man by slicing across his chest and then thrust his dagger into another's stomach. He felt a slice to his calf and fell to his knees. He swivelled and caught the other man's legs and the man let out a howl of pain. Aramis collapsed as he was kicked hard in the ribs and found himself on his back facing a sword.

'Does the young one have the letter or did you use him as bait?' the man asked as all three musketeers were defeated.

Silence was the answer.

'Search them,' the man ordered as the musketeers found themselves being pushed onto their stomachs as they were searched. 'Find the horses,' the man ordered.

'Whoo-whip,' Porthos managed through the pain he was feeling and the clattering of hooves could be heard.

'That wasn't clever,' the man hissed as he kicked Porthos hard in the stomach and then took his own dagger and drew blood as he scraped Porthos' neck.

'Who are you?' Athos asked as he tried to distract the man.

'None of your business,' the man growled as he turned away from Porthos.

'I only ask as I like to know the names of the men I kill,' Athos said absent-mindedly as the man laughed.

'Laugh all you want. It's true,' Aramis piped up. 'It's rather impersonal to just kill someone isn't it?'

'Much more satisfying to know their name,' Athos agreed.

'Tie'em up,' the man ordered as the men complied. 'Build a pyre. I don't want them to be recognisable.' The musketeers shared worried glances. 'My name is Raymond, by the way,' he said with a grin.

* * *

D'Artagnan rode as fast as he was able. The wound to his shoulder was incredibly painful but he trusted his horse knew where to go. The heat was making him feel light-headed and nauseous but he **had** to get back to the garrison.

'D'Artagnan!' cried a voice and D'Artagnan realised he had made it back to the garrison and was looking down at a worried Joubert.

'Joubert?' he croaked as his mind started to wander.

'Easy kid,' Joubert said as he and Vasselin, who had just appeared from nowhere, helped him down.

'Others trapped. Need help,' D'Artagnan spluttered as he was helped to the nearest bench.

'D'Artagnan,' Tréville's voice rang out and D'Artagnan looked up to see concern on his Captain's face. 'Where did you leave them?'

'Trees...by...stream,' was all D'Artagnan could say as his light-headedness started to overcome him. 'Letter,' he reached in his pocket and brought out the Duke of Bordeaux's letter to the King.

'Trees by a stream,' Tréville muttered as he suddenly realised where D'Artagnan was talking about. 'Joubert, Vasselin, Gabriel,' he called. He instructed them to take some men and search for Athos, Porthos and Aramis with instructions where to find them. Tréville desperately wanted to go himself but he knew the letter had to take priority.

'Get him into the infirmary,' Tréville ordered to the cadets indicating D'Artagnan, 'and someone find Doctor Durant!' he shouted at no-one in particular.

* * *

Tréville was distracted by the thoughts of his best men being ambushed and potentially dead. He wandered into the palace without noticing where he was walking and accidently bumped into the Cardinal.

'Watch where you're going!' the Cardinal said with clear irritation. The look on Tréville's face said it all. 'What's happened?' he asked curiously.

'I need to speak with the King,' Tréville said as he marched off. The Cardinal followed swiftly behind him.

'Ah Tréville!' Louis said with exuberance as Tréville.

'What's wrong Captain?' the Queen asked seeing Tréville's grim look.

'I have the response from the Duke of Bordeaux,' Tréville handed the letter to Louis after bowing.

'Captain?' the Queen asked forcefully as he hadn't answered her question. Louis was also looking at him expectantly.

'D'Artagnan returned with the letter but he had been shot,' Tréville said using little expression. 'All he could tell me was that he had left Athos, Porthos and Aramis in trees near a stream. I believe I know where that is so I have sent men to investigate.'

'You are worried for their safety?' the Queen looked more shocked than Tréville would have thought but he remembered how close she had become to those four when her life was in danger.

'I am Majesty,' Tréville said to the Queen.

'D'Artagnan left them?' the Cardinal sneered.

'Due to the importance of the letter the others most likely instructed D'Artagnan to return to the garrison alone,' Tréville said coldly. 'He did not desert them, if that is what you're suggesting.'

'Quite right of course,' Louis said before Richelieu could reply. 'The letter is of great importance,' Louis said pompously.

'Let us hope it will be good news when your men find them,' Anne said quietly. 'I will pray for them.'

'Thank you Majesty,' Tréville said with a nod. 'I must return to the garrison and find out what happened if D'Artagnan is able to talk.'

* * *

D'Artagnan was barely aware of what was going on around him. He heard voices talking to him but he couldn't make sense of it. His shoulder hurt. He knew that much. He was trying to stay awake but he was suddenly brought to his senses by the feeling of someone scraping around for the ball in his shoulder.

'Arggh, Aramis!' he shouted until he was aware that the man holding the ball that had just been extricated from his shoulder was not Aramis. 'Doctor Durant?'

'D'Artagnan,' the doctor said with a small smile. 'You recognise me now.'

D'Artagnan looked around as if to find someone but suddenly realised why they weren't there. He started to get out of bed and was pushed back down by Durant.

'No moving,' he said. 'I still need to stitch the wound,' he said in a no-nonsense manner.

'But my friends...' D'Artagnan started before collapsing due to exhaustion.

'You need rest after I've stitched that up,' he pointed towards D'Artagnan's shoulder. 'You've lost a lot of blood,' the doctor explained.

'But I need...to see...the Captain,' D'Artagnan huffed. 'My friends-'

'Captain Tréville has already sent men out there,' Durant said softly. 'There is nothing you can do but get better,' he said gently as he moved D'Artagnan more on his side so the wound could be cleaned and sewed. D'Artagnan felt the sting of the wine used to clean the wound but felt no more as he fell unconscious.

* * *

Gabriel, Joubert and Vasselin led the musketeers on the search for the remaining Inseparables. Tréville had been sure of his directions and the musketeers were on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. They soon found the bodies of the men that had followed D'Artagnan lying in the raod.

They quickly moved the bodies out of the way and knew they were on the right tracks. They continued further keeping a vigil of concentration for any sign of their comrades. Three familiar horses appeared which added to the worry as their riders were nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, they all felt sick to their stomachs as black smoke was rising from the trees in the distance.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope to update this soon but I don't know exactly when I'll have time. The idea is already thought out though so it will be finished. I would love to hear your thoughts and you can PM with any concerns over the direction of the story. I hope you enjoyed it so far. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all I must say 'THANK YOU!' for all of you wonderful reviews. It's the most I've ever received on a single chapter! I think I managed to reply to all the signed in comments and I loved reading the guest comments as well. :) Also thank you to everyone who has followed or favourited that also means a lot.**

 **Moving on with the story now.**

 **Warning: Does contain some potentially upsetting scenes from the beginning.**

* * *

The musketeers rushed towards the smoke and soon saw a large bonfire in front of them at the edge of the wood. What they saw sickened them as three bodies were clearly attached to the burning wood. They quickly dismounted and located the nearby stream and tried to douse the fire with mud and water.

They managed to put the fire out but they were all aware that it was too late as they retrieved the bodies. At first glance the bodies, which were completely blackened, were roughly the correct sizes for their comrades.

Gabriel looked around more out of desperation than hope, wanting the reality in front of him to be a lie. The Inseparables would appear and cheerfully tell him they had no choice but to put on a charade. This could not be true.

Raymond watched the devastated musketeers from the shadows. The Duke of Lorraine would not be happy that the letter had reached Louis but at least three musketeers had been disposed of and the young one didn't even know his name was Raymond. It could be worse.

'Vasselin, Joubert,' Gabriel called. 'Go to the nearest town and use your authority to borrow a wagon.'

The two men left as Gabriel tried to find any way he could of identifying the men in front of him. All appeared to be the correct size for Athos, Porthos and Aramis but he honestly couldn't tell. He left the bodies, which he had instructed to be wrapped in musketeer cloaks, and searched the forest. As he neared the small stream he saw the remnants of the fight that had taken place. Many bodies were scattered about but no musketeers. His heart sank when he saw parchment pinned to three separate trees bearing the names Athos, Aramis and Porthos.

* * *

D'Artagnan woke in his bed in the infirmary and saw Constance sitting in the chair beside him.

'How are you feeling?' she asked as D'Artagnan could see night had fallen from the dark window behind her.

'Sore,' he said truthfully. 'But I'm fine,' he added which made Constance roll her eyes. 'What about the others?' he asked quickly as he remembered why they weren't there.

'There's been no news yet,' she said quietly.

'They should be back by now,' D'Artagnan tried to move but pain shot through his shoulder and he collapsed back onto the bed.

'I'll wake you when there is news,' Constance said as she helped him drink some water and then a pain draught. D'Artagnan could tell she was worried and so was he. His last thought was of his brothers as he fell asleep.

* * *

Tréville heard horses returning and dashed out of his office and his heart sank. The Inseparables' horses were there but the men weren't. A cart had tarpaulin covering it and Tréville dreaded what he would find inside.

He slowly descended the stairs from his office but Gabriel's expression said it all.

'They're badly burnt Capt'n,' the musketeer managed in a choked voice. 'Looks like it could be them. I can't tell.'

Tréville moved the tarpaulin back and saw the burnt bodies and had to swallow sharply to stop himself from throwing up. The bodies were roughly the right size for Athos, Porthos and Aramis but he would need the mortician to find out all he could. Tréville covered them and looked around at the sombre faces that surrounded him.

'We will find the men who did this and we will get justice,' he said as he looked up to the closed infirmary door and wondered how he was going to break the news to D'Artagnan.

'Wait for me,' he ordered Gabriel and Vasselin as he turned towards the infirmary. He ascended the stairs to find Constance next to D'Artagnan's bed but the man was clearly in a deep sleep.

Constance took one look at Tréville and gasped, 'No,' and placed her hand over mouth. He strode over to her and placed his arms around her. He knew how close she was to them as a result of D'Artagnan's appearance just over a year ago.

'Should we wake him?' she asked tearfully.

'No. Let him sleep,' Tréville sighed. 'As soon as he shows signs of waking send for me. I must go to the palace but if he wakes before please tell him you know nothing.' Constance nodded. She didn't want to be the one to break the terrible news.

Tréville left the infirmary and almost turned back. He was leaving quite a responsibility on Constance's shoulders but he had to get the bodies to the mortician and update the King.

* * *

Tréville rode with a heavy heart alongside the cart that contained the bodies of his best men. A part of him disbelieved that the bodies were those of the Inseparables but the state of the bodies made it impossible to truly tell. From what Gabriel had told him it seemed unlikely that the bodies were anyone else but he wanted Poupart to check and see if he could find anything that may suggest the bodies weren't the musketeers. Tréville knew he was asking for a miracle.

He knocked at the door and a few moments later the door was opened by the mortician, Poupart.

'Not you again,' the man sighed in jest until he saw Tréville's grim look. 'Not some of yours?' the man asked already knowing the truth.

'Afraid so,' Tréville said with a sigh.

The bodies were transferred into the mortuary and Poupart pulled the sheets back to reveal the burnt remains.

'Wow,' he said more to himself than anyone else.

'I need to know whether they died from the fire or were killed before,' Tréville said with his voice cracking slightly. 'Anything else you can find out that may be useful in identifying whether they were musketeers or not.'

'There isn't much left but I'll check for underlying medical conditions and things like that,' Poupart said with a sad expression.

'Thank you,' Tréville gave a sad nod. 'Could you do it as quickly as possible please?'

'Of course,' Poupart replied. He had a lot of time for Tréville as the man showed him more respect than anyone else. 'I'll start first thing.'

Tréville nodded again and left. Once outside he sent the musketeers back to the garrison as he went to the palace. He would have to inform the King that three of his best Musketeers were dead. The Cardinal may say the right thing but surely he would be happy to be rid of them and the secrets they knew.

Tréville found Louis in his chambers and thankfully the Cardinal was nowhere to be seen.

'What news Tréville?' Louis asked with a smile until his face fell when he saw Tréville's expression. 'Oh no.'

'I'm afraid that it appears that Athos, Porthos and Aramis are dead,' Tréville nearly choked on the last word.

'Appears?' Louis waved for Tréville to sit down and in fit selflessness shoved a glass of wine in front of the Captain.

'The bodies were burnt,' Tréville said after taking a gulp of wine. 'They appear to be the correct sizes but I've asked the mortician to check thoroughly in case there are any conditions that rules the bodies out of being musketeers.' He downed the rest of the wine in one gulp.

'That is terrible,' Louis said as he sipped his own wine.

'They knew their job, Sire,' Tréville said quietly. 'They were the best.'

'Whatever you want for their funerals is yours,' Louis said sympathetically.

'Thank you, Sire,' Tréville gave a small smile. Louis could be petty, brattish and sometimes downright selfish but occasionally he could surprise you. 'Thank you for the wine,' Tréville stood and bowed before leaving.

He wandered down the corridor in a daze as he realised that telling D'Artagnan would be worse than telling Louis. He took a deep breath and tried to steel himself for what would be a truly unpleasant encounter.

'Captain?' the Queen's voice startled Tréville.

'Your Majesty,' he bowed.

'It's not good is it?' she asked with her eyes wide with fear.

'I'm afraid not,' he said quietly.

'No,' she said quietly as her hand moved to her ever growing bump. Tréville caught her before she fell and managed to move her to a nearby chair. 'Are you sure?' she asked shakily.

'No, but it seems likely that they are dead,' Tréville sighed realising he would have to tell her the truth.

'Surely you would know?' she asked with tears in her eyes.

'The bodies were burned,' Tréville sat in the chair next to her as she covered her mouth with her hand. 'They appear to be the correct sizes but I honestly don't know. My men searched the area and found nothing to indicate that they were still there. The mortician is checking to see if any of the bodies recovered have any kind of illness that would exempt them from being musketeers. I'm sorry.'

'Thank you for telling me,' she said after a minute or so for her to digest the news. 'Goodnight Captain,' she said as she stood and moved slowly towards her bedroom.

She moved into her bedroom and ordered everyone out without an explanation. Once they were all gone she curled up on her bed holding her stomach as she cried for the man she had lost.

* * *

Tréville sighed deeply as he walked back to his horse. For a moment he rested his head on the saddle and finally allowed himself to cry quietly. He cared for all of his men but those three held a special place in his heart. Now he had to tell the sole survivor of the quartet that he was now alone.

He mounted his horse and headed back to the garrison. He stopped at a nearby tavern and ordered a few bottles of wine. He had a feeling he was going to need them.

He arrived back at the garrison to find it nearly deserted but a sombre presence hung over the structure. The Inseparables were well liked and respected. Many of the men considered them the best. Invincible. Suddenly the realisation of their mortality had reduced moral to an all-time low, except for Savoy this was the saddest atmosphere for a long time.

Tréville moved towards the infirmary and swallowed thickly as he opened the door. Constance was still sat at D'Artagnan's bedside but it looked as though he hadn't woken.

'He didn't wake?' Tréville asked quietly.

'Not yet,' she replied with a shake of her head.

'Go home Constance and get some rest,' Tréville said with a sad expression. 'I don't think he'll be a pleasant person to be around when I tell him.'

'He's going to take it badly,' she looked forlornly at D'Artagnan who continued to sleep.

'He is,' Tréville sighed. 'Get some rest. Your husband must be wondering where you are.'

'He's away for the week,' Constance said in an expressionless tone.

'If you're not busy...would you be able to return in the morning?' Tréville asked with hope that D'Artagnan could yet have Constance to help him through this time.

'I intended to anyway,' Constance gave a weak smile as she stood and collected her cloak.

'Ask one of the men to walk you home,' Tréville returned a small smile.

'I don't need-'

'Please. I would feel better if I knew you were safe,' Tréville insisted and Constance finally nodded and left the infirmary.

Tréville placed the bottle of wine on a nearby table and took the seat Constance had just vacated. He rubbed his forehead with his right hand and sighed. The news was still sinking in but it would be a reality once D'Artagnan was told.

The door to the infirmary opened and for just a moment he thought he would see Athos, Porthos and Aramis enter to see their friend and brother.

Vasselin must have seen his expression as he commented, 'I know. I've been expecting them to walk through gates any minute. Joubert is escorting Madame Bonacieux home.'

'Vasselin, you saw the bodies. Have you any reason to think that it might not be them?' Tréville asked.

'I dunno whether it's denial or not but I can't help think that they found a way out,' Vasselin said with clear confusion in his voice. 'The bodies were so badly burnt maybe I just can't help but hope. They are the sizes from what I could tell. We found no signs that they could have left had they been alive. I suppose there is no reason to think it isn't them either,' he said dejectedly.

'Go and get some rest. It's been a very difficult day,' Tréville ordered gently.

'Yes sir,' Vasselin replied as he looked sympathetically at D'Artagnan before he left the infirmary.

Tréville sat with his own thoughts as he looked at the young man in front of him and sipped some wine. D'Artagnan had appeared from nowhere. The Gascon farm boy who had threatened Athos and then helped clear his name. Had joined the group known as the Inseparables who had always been a trio and quickly found themselves a quartet. Many had tried to join Athos, Porthos and Aramis before D'Artagnan but only the Gascon had succeeded. Though Tréville rarely said it, he knew that they were his best men and so did the other musketeers.

After an hour or so he heard a groan from the bed as D'Artagnan's face scrunched in pain.

'D'Artagnan,' Tréville called. 'Open your eyes son.' It took a moment but D'Artagnan's eyes opened slowly.

'Capt'n,' he croaked as Tréville reached for the glass of water he had poured moments earlier.

'Drink,' he instructed and D'Artagnan complied.

Once D'Artagnan had finished his drink he looked around and his heart sank. The Captain was here but the others weren't.

Tréville could already see that D'Artagnan was lucid enough to work out why he was there and why Athos, Porthos and Aramis weren't. The dreaded moment had come.

'D'Artagnan...' Tréville started quietly. 'I have some very bad news for you...'

'No,' D'Artagnan said pushing himself up into a sitting position with a grimace and looking at Tréville with fear and defiance in his eyes. 'No. You're wrong. They're not...They can't be...'

Tréville took advantage of the pause, 'Three bodies were recovered from a pyre in the trees near the stream where you were attacked.'

'No, no. No it's not them,' D'Artagnan almost pleaded and Tréville could see the young man's lip starting to quiver.

'The bodies were badly burnt but it appears that it is them,' Tréville didn't manage to keep the quiver out of his voice or the tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

'No!' D'Artagnan wailed as tears streamed from his eyes at the thought of his lost brothers. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. The pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Tréville moved from the chair to sit on the side of the bed. He placed his arms around the sobbing young man and enveloped him in a hug.

'Let it out,' was all the Captain said as D'Artagnan sobbed uncontrollably in his arms.

* * *

 **A/N: Are they truly gone? How will D'Artagnan deal with it? The next chapter will provide the answers and I'm hoping to post it on Monday as it is nearly finished. :)**

 **If you have anything you want to know about the direction of this story please ask and I will let you know in a private message. :)**

 **Thank you for reading.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Again I'd like to thank you all for continuing to read and your feedback. Hopefully this chapter will answer some questions but not all. I have been told that the last chapter caused some tears, this one will probably need tissues nearby as well.**

 **Warning: There is one instance of swearing later one but it felt rather appropriate for the tone.**

 **Enjoy. (Enjoy may be the wrong word...)**

* * *

D'Artagnan continued to sob for a while as Tréville felt his own eyes dampen again. He hated seeing any of his men like this but for D'Artagnan this would be especially painful. The young man had just lost his father before trying to kill Athos, who he originally thought responsible, before eventually helping to free the musketeer with Aramis and Porthos. The Inseparables had taken him under their wings and he had effortlessly joined their group.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis were the reason that D'Artagnan could find a way through his grief and use his talents as a musketeer rather than returning to the family farm. The farm was no more as it had been burned down just before D'Artagnan had officially become a musketeer earlier that year.

Finally, D'Artagnan's sobbing subsided as he ran out of energy. Tréville helped him drink some water as the young man was too shaky to hold the cup alone.

'Sleep,' Tréville said quietly as he lay D'Artagnan down on the bed.

D'Artagnan didn't fight and instantly curled himself up on his left side. Within moments he was asleep. Tréville didn't know how long he sat there but he must have been dozing as the opening of the infirmary door startled him.

'Sorry Captain,' Joubert said as he quietly moved across the room towards D'Artagnan's bed. 'I'll stay with him for the night if you want to get some sleep.'

Tréville rather got the feeling that Joubert was insisting that he leave and rest as politely as possible. Tréville couldn't help but think back to the many times Aramis had 'ordered' him to get some rest while the expressions of Athos and Porthos made it clear that they agreed with the marksman wholeheartedly.

His expression must have changed as Joubert gave a small smile. 'Yes, I'm not as brave as Aramis to tell you what to do,' he said with slight amusement.

'But he would tell me to rest and the others would back him up,' Tréville returned a small smile at the thought.

He made his way to his office, poured himself some brandy and sat down at his desk. For a moment he thought about updating the ledger of deaths in service and to find out who would receive the fallen musketeers' pensions. He huffed a laugh as he realised they had likely left their pensions to each other and D'Artagnan would now receive all of them. He took a gulp of his brandy and sighed.

Something stopped him. He wasn't sure what but he decided he would wait until after he had received confirmation, well as much as possible, that the bodies recovered were those of his men. There was a knock on the door.

'Come in,' he called in a tired voice and Gabriel walked in. 'Are you checking up on me as well?' Tréville asked with slight amusement.

Gabriel suddenly looked apprehensive which suggested that Tréville was right in his assumption. Again Tréville was reminded of Athos who would always check that Tréville was following Aramis' 'orders' but Athos would fix him with that icy stare of his and would never look nervous or uncomfortable.

'I was just checking whether you wanted a sleep draught to help...' Gabriel finally managed to find his voice and was holding vial in his outstretched hand.

Tréville thought for a moment but soon realised he did need sleep. 'Thank you,' he said and outstretched his hand and took the vial.

'Goodnight, Captain,' Gabriel nodded before leaving.

Tréville huffed another laugh as he remembered the last time he was struggling to sleep and Porthos had come into the office and rather forcefully placed a vial containing a sleep draught on the table with a look that made it clear he should drink it.

The Inseparables were the only ones that could get away with such behaviour but that was because it stemmed from an unspoken respect between them all. Rarely would they act in such a way publicly but often they looked after their Captain when he forgot to do so. He was really going to miss them.

He downed the draught and the rest of his brandy and got ready for bed, leaving the death in service ledger untouched.

* * *

D'Artagnan tossed and turned all night but did not wake as Joubert kept a vigil by his bed. In the early hours Vasselin arrived and relieved Joubert of his watch as both men sent sympathetic glances towards the Gascon.

'He'll survive,' Vasselin said with nod.

'Let's hope so,' Joubert said with a sigh.

D'Artagnan was still sleeping when Constance arrived in the early morning. She quickly bustled in with fresh bread and some cheese and offered some to Vasselin who politely refused as he realised she had brought it for D'Artagnan.

'How is he?' she asked quietly so not to disturb the sleeping man.

'Difficult night,' Vasselin said truthfully. 'I'm sure he'll be glad to see you.'

'I still can't believe it,' Constance blurted out with a shake of her head.

'None of us can,' Vasselin said with a glance towards D'Artagnan. 'But we will get them. Whoever did it will pay,' he said suddenly sounding very determined.

Constance could only nod as Vasselin stood. 'You need anything, just ask,' he said as he left the infirmary.

Constance knew she had to be strong but she knew there would be tears to come.

* * *

D'Artagnan slept on until noon when he finally awakened. It was a wonder he had slept so long as it was now raining hard and had been for the past couple of hours.

She helped him sit up and helped him drink some water as his left hand was still trembling slightly and he couldn't use his right for the time being.

'You know?' he asked quietly with a sad expression.

'Yes,' she replied softly. 'I'll miss them.'

'I thought you found them annoying?' D'Artagnan asked with a small smile.

'I did, but I will still miss them,' she said honestly.

'I will miss them so much,' D'Artagnan suddenly broke down and Constance quickly put her arms around him and gently pulled him closer to her. They stayed like that for a while as they both let their emotions take over.

'I'm sorry,' D'Artagnan said as he wiped his eyes and looked embarrassed.

'Don't ever be sorry for caring about people,' she scolded lightly making him smile. 'I brought some bread and cheese,' she said showing him the basket.

'I'm not sure how much I can eat,' he said quietly.

'I'll go down to the kitchens and see if they have any broth which will make the bread easier to eat,' she said as she moved from the bed and put on her cloak. 'Stay put,' she commanded again making D'Artagnan give a small smile.

He watched her leave and heard her footsteps retreat. He quickly got out of bed, ignoring his throbbing shoulder, and put on his boots. He needed fresh air instead of being cooped up in the infirmary.

He opened the infirmary door and saw that the courtyard was almost deserted as most of the present musketeers were having the midday meal in the mess hall. He moved down the stairs into the courtyard and that was when it hit him.

The table that they so often frequented was empty. The table where he would always find Athos, Porthos and Aramis smiling cheerfully. That table was theirs. They ate at that table, they moaned at that table and often they drank together at that table when life just decided to hate them.

Those were just memories now as they could never do that again. D'Artagnan stood frozen in time as the rain lashed down soaking him through. His eyes couldn't move from that table. A table his friends, no brothers, would never sit at again. They were dead and would never return and worst of all, it was his fault.

Why? Why had they died? They died because he had left them. Athos and Aramis were already injured and he ran. He left them in those woods to be killed. He was a terrible person. He had killed the men he called brothers. He deserved to be punished.

D'Artagnan sank to his knees in the muddy courtyard not caring that he was soaked through and filthy. What hardship was that when he had killed his brothers? He ran when he should have stayed and fought beside them. He was a coward.

'No!' he yelled as he slammed his fists into the mud splashing his shirt and breeches. 'It's my fault! It's my fault!' he yelled to no-one and everyone. 'They're gone because of me!' he sobbed.

D'Artagnan hadn't noticed his audience and nor did he care. He should have died with his brothers.

'D'Artagnan,' he heard a voice in the distance but he ignored it.

'No!' he sobbed again. His heart felt as though it had been wrenched out of his body. His shoulder hurt but that pain was bearable the one in his heart was not.

'D'Artagnan,' the voice called again as a gentle hand touched his shoulder. After a moment D'Artagnan registered the touch and turned and looked directly at his Captain who was crouched beside him. 'There you are,' Tréville said as D'Artagnan's eyes refocused.

D'Artagnan looked around and saw many of the musketeers watching him with looks of sympathy and not disgust. Why weren't they disgusted by him? A man who left his brothers behind.

'Come on lad,' Vasselin appeared on his left and threw D'Artagnan's left arm around his shoulder. 'Let's get you back to bed.'

With the help of Vasselin and Tréville, D'Artagnan managed to stand. Only now did he realise how cold and wet he was. He looked to the table and still he expected to see Athos, Porthos and Aramis smiling back at him, laughing at something stupid he'd done. An event that would never happen again because they were gone.

Tréville and Vaselin half-carried D'Artagnan back to the infirmary. Soon he had been stripped of his muddy and wet clothes and fresh clean clothes had appeared from somewhere. Once D'Artagnan was dressed they gently laid him on the bed as he couldn't do much himself due to exhaustion and his shoulder.

'I'm sorry,' D'Artagnan said tearfully.

'Nothing to be sorry about,' Tréville tried to reassure him but he could see that D'Artagnan was in a dark place.

'I'll stay,' Vasselin said with a nod to Tréville who nodded back as an understanding passed between them.

Tréville found Constance stood at the bottom of the stairs to the infirmary.

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left him alone,' she said quickly.

'He'd have gotten out sooner or later,' Tréville reassured her. 'You barely slept, did you?' he said as Constance failed to stifle a yawn.

'No,' she answered truthfully.

'Get some rest,' Tréville gave her arm a small squeeze. 'Vasselin will stay with him now and will give D'Artagnan a few home truths that he needs to hear.'

'This is so hard,' Constance said as she gave a sad smile as she walked away.

* * *

'Here,' Vasselin handed D'Artagnan a cup and helped him drink.

'This is wine,' D'Artagnan pointed out but Vasselin smiled.

'You needed it,' Vasselin took the cup away and put his best serious face on. He knew he wasn't a patch on Athos but today he was going to channel the swordsman's manner.

'What?' D'Artagnan asked seeing Vasselin's serious expression.

'We need to have a chat,' Vasselin leant back in his chair.

'I know,' D'Artagnan said with a sigh.

'You know what?' Vasselin asked with a stern expression.

'I'm pathetic and I don't deserve to be a musketeer,' D'Artagnan said with resignation.

'Nope, that's not it. Try again,' Vasselin said as if he was teaching D'Artagnan a new skill and D'Artagnan hadn't got the theory right.

'It's true,' D'Artagnan responded stubbornly.

Vasselin sighed and shook his head. 'Tell me what happened out there,' he made it clear that he wasn't asking but was commanding.

'We were in trees near a stream and we were attacked. Aramis was hit and so was Athos,' D'Artagnan said dejectedly.

'And?' Vasselin prompted.

'I ran. Like a coward!' D'Artagnan said with self-hatred in his voice.

'Stop there,' Vasselin interrupted and raised a hand. 'What really happened?'

'I told you!' D'Artagnan insisted.

'Think back,' Vasselin didn't change his tone. 'What was your mission?'

'To return with the Duke of Bordeaux's reply to the King's letter,' D'Artagnan said confidently.

'And who had the letter?' Vasselin asked in the same monotone.

'I di...I did,' D'Artagnan stammered before recovering.

'So you had the letter when you were attacked?' Vasselin raised his eyebrows, he'd never been able to do one like Athos, and tilted his head slightly to the side.

'Yes,' D'Artagnan confirmed and Vasselin could already see that D'Artagnan was responding to his method.

'So, you had the letter and therefore you were the one that needed to get it back to Paris safely to complete the mission,' Vasselin stated. 'Were you ordered to go?'

'No,' D'Artagnan said defiantly. 'No-one said to go.'

'No-one verbally commanded you to go?' Vasselin knew he was getting to the important part.

'No,' D'Artagnan said quickly and stared at his sheet covered knees.

'Were you given any other communication to go?' Vasselin could see D'Artagnan tense. 'A look that told you as much without giving away your plan to the enemy who were listening?'

D'Artagnan remained silent but it was clear he was squirming inside as the need to blame himself was counteracted by his order to leave.

'D'Artagnan?' Vasselin prompted.

'They all gave me looks that I knew meant that I had to leave as I had the letter,' D'Artagnan broke down and started sobbing.

Vasselin waited for the sobbing to stop. 'You did as you were told?' he asked quietly.

'Yes,' D'Artagnan replied weakly.

'Then, how the **hell** was it your fault?' he raised his voice and turned D'Artagnan to look at him.

D'Artagnan looked back at the eyes glaring at him and was reminded of Athos. 'It wasn't,' he said quietly. 'But I shouldn't have left!' D'Artagnan looked defiantly at Vasselin. 'I shouldn't have left them!'

Vasselin handed him the wine again. 'This wasn't your fault D'Artagnan. The mission always has to take priority. You had the letter so you had to get away. They knew that. You knew that.'

'But they might not be dead if I had stayed,' D'Artagnan almost pleaded.

'Then you might have died as well and what good would that been?' Vasselin said with an honest expression. 'We will get the bastards that did this. I promise you. They will pay.'

'Thank you,' D'Artagnan said quietly after a short time as the fight seemed to have left him. Vasselin knew D'Artagnan wasn't entirely convinced but for now the tone needed to change.

'Besides can you imagine the glare Athos would have sent your way if you'd disobeyed him?' Vasselin chuckled.

'You mean the one that turns your heart to ice?' D'Artagnan laughed back as he remembered Athos' iciest stare that was used mostly for the enemy.

'Yeah, that one!' Vasselin smiled and then shivered dramatically making D'Artagnan smile. 'Porthos would have growled that growl that scares the wits out of you, while Aramis would make it clear he was very disappointed in you and would make sure you saw him reloading his pistols.'

D'Artagnan couldn't help himself as he thought of his brother's reactions and laughed with Vasselin. The laughter finally abated as the truth was revealed again.

'I want to see the bodies,' D'Artagnan stated quietly.

'No you don't lad,' Vasselin said with sympathy. 'They were badly burnt.'

'But it may not have been them!' D'Artagnan tried to get out of bed but Vasselin pushed him back gently but forcibly.

'The mortician is checking the bodies to see if he could rule it out. We just have to wait,' Vasselin said firmly. 'Now, Madame Bonacieux brought some bread and cheese earlier. I suggest you eat some or you'll get on the wrong side of her and I reckon that glare of hers could rival Athos,' he reached for the basket with a smile.

* * *

Tréville couldn't wait any longer. It was nearing four o'clock and Vasselin had reported that D'Artagnan had eaten and was now sleeping again. Constance had returned and was again at his bedside although it was clear she had had very little rest herself.

He had to go to Poupart and find out what the mortician knew. He collected his horse form the stables and rode quickly to the mortuary. He dismounted and a wave of grief flowed through him. A part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore.

He steeled himself, knocked and entered and found Poupart working on an unburnt body of a woman who looked as though she may have drowned.

'Ah Tréville, here for your update,' Poupart said as he moved to the correct tables.

'What did you find?' Tréville asked as Poupart pulled back the sheets.

'Well, none of them died on the pyre. I'm certain of that,' Poupart said and Tréville was thankful for small mercies. 'This one,' he indicated the body on Tréville's left, 'had his neck broken. This one,' the middle body and the largest, 'was stabbed in the heart and this one,' he indicated the last body, was shot in the back of the head. A good shot by all accounts.'

'What makes you say that?' Tréville felt a flutter of something in his gut.

'Bullet isn't that far lodged in the back of the skull. This man was most likely running away and was certainly shot at a distance. Rather accurately,' Poupart explained.

Tréville knew only one man that could aim that well. Of course it could have just been a lucky shot, he reasoned.

'The broken neck, was it clean?' Tréville asked.

'Oh yes, expertly done,' Poupart said with a strange sense of admiration. 'The stab wound was precise too.'

Tréville knew something was wrong, but they were dead.

'These musketeers,' Poupart waited until he Tréville's attention. 'They wouldn't be the ones that send me more cadavers than the rest of the regiment put together. You know the dark one, the posh one and the flirty one?'

Tréville couldn't help but smirk at Poupart's description of the Inseparables.

'They just added a young one as well,' Poupart insisted.

'Yes, D'Artagnan,' Tréville clarified. 'You mean Porthos, Athos and Aramis.'

'That's them,' Poupart nodded. 'You think this is them,' he indicated the bodies.

'Yes,' Tréville replied but gave Poupart and inquiring look as hope started to build inside him. Surely not?

'Then I can tell you with absolute certainty, these are **not** your men.'

* * *

 **A/N: So the burnt bodies aren't those of our Inseparables. So I suppose the questions are: Where are they? What happened? Chapter 4 will explain that. D'Artagnan is unfortunately in a rather dark place at the moment but will that change?  
**

 **As for the next update I'm not entirely sure. I'm hoping maybe Friday but should definitely be by next Monday.**

 **Please let me know what you think. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is a fair bit longer than I anticipated. It was too short if I left as one point and it's rather long now. This answers what happened to the others. This is mainly a D'Artagnan fic but he doesn't appear a lot in this chapter so I hope you forgive me.**

 **Couple of instances of swearing for you to be aware of. Not strong though.**

 **I'm not a pathologist but I've tried to use aspects that I believe Poupart would have been able to determine that the bodies weren't our musketeers..**

 **I hope this satifies your need to know what happened to the others. :)**

* * *

'Say that again,' Tréville had to be sure he hadn't misheard. This wasn't a joke.

'These are not your men,' Poupart repeated with a smile.

'How can you be sure?' Tréville had to be sure but he was also aware that time was now against him as the Inseparables hadn't appeared since the bodies had been retrieved.

'This one,' he pointed to the largest body, 'you think is the dark one, Porthos, it can't be. Look here,' he lifted one of the arms up and it made a creaking noise that made Tréville's stomach turn slightly. 'Here under the armpit wasn't caught by the fire. The skin's white and the jaw line is that of a white man not a man of colour.'

Tréville could see that Poupart was correct that the skin under the armpit was indeed white. This couldn't be Porthos and the shape was too big to be either Athos or Aramis.

'The other two, Athos and Aramis, they're about the same height aren't they?' Poupart asked.

'Yes,' Tréville smiled slightly. 'Same height, so I often use them to demonstrate fighting someone of equal height.'

'That man,' he pointed to the man whose neck had been broken, 'is three inches shorter. Not only that, he has very diseased lungs.'

'Aramis had a cold when he left?' Tréville questioned but his heart lifted when he saw Poupart shake his head with a smile.

'This isn't from a cold,' Poupart explained. 'This man would have been dead in a few months anyway and none of your men were ill when I last saw 'em.'

'And the last one?' Tréville asked wondering how this body could be eliminated from being a musketeer.

'Smallest finger is gone from the left hand,' Poupart said as he showed Tréville.

'That could have happened in the fight,' Tréville stated but Poupart smiled again.

'Look here,' he beckoned Tréville over. 'See how this stump is barely singed,' Tréville nodded. 'The stump has clearly been healed for a while. If it was fresh the wound would have cauterised somewhat and you would be able to see the bone. This man lost this finger, I'd estimate, over five years ago.'

'It can't be any of them,' Tréville sighed as relief flooded through him. The relief was quickly substituted for worry once more. 'Then where the HELL are they?' he asked himself aloud.

'Search me,' Poupart smiled. 'Can't help you on that.'

Tréville turned and smiled at the mortician. He threw his money purse towards Poupart who caught it easily. Tréville took a deep breath as he considered what he should do next. He was about to leave when Poupart handed him back his money purse minus a few coins.

'Have all of it,' Tréville said. 'You helped me realise my men were alive.'

'I take what's fair, unless you're a rich smarmy bugger and then I take you for all I can,' Poupart smiled as Tréville took back his purse. 'You can thank me better by finding them alive. They send more work my way than the rest of your boys put together,' he grinned.

'Thank you,' Tréville tipped his hat as he left. Now he just **had** to find them.

* * *

Tréville rode back to the garrison as fast as he could manage in the tight and currently occupied streets. He didn't want to knock anyone over but he was well aware that time was against him. He half-hoped to see the Inseparables staring back at him from their customary table when he returned.

No such luck as he entered the garrison as he looked directly at 'their' table whish was empty.

'Don't untack him,' Tréville instructed as he handed his horse to Jacques the stable boy who nodded that he had understood.

During the ride back to the garrison Tréville had thought about which musketeers he would take to search for the Inseparables and how much the garrison should know.

'Gabriel,' he called and the musketeer turned to look at his captain. 'Find Vasselin and Joubert and come straight to my office,' he instructed.

'Yes, Captain,' Gabriel nodded as he set about trying to find the other two.

Tréville made his way up to his office and waited. About five minutes later he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and the there was a knock at the door.

'Come in,' Tréville called as he stood behind his desk leaning on it. He watched the three men enter and line-up in front of his desk. 'What I'm about to tell you goes no further than the people in this room. Is that clear?' The three musketeers nodded in unison. 'The bodies that you recovered from the woods were not those of Athos, Porthos and Aramis.'

'It wasn't them!' Vasselin cracked a smile before it fell almost instantly. 'Then where are they?'

'That is the question,' Tréville answered grimly.

'Maybe there was a sign and we missed it?' Gabriel looked a bit guilty.

'Or maybe they left no sign at all,' Joubert reasoned. 'The bodies on that pyre were put on there to disguise the bodies. It's possible that Athos, Porthos and Aramis put them there so that they wouldn't be discovered.'

'Or somebody was trying to hide the fact that they had been captured,' Vasselin added.

'If they were alive they would be back by now,' Gabriel stated.

'We took their horses,' Joubert said looking worried. Tréville just watched on as the men reasoned with each other.

'Even so, they'd have found a way back if they could,' Vasselin said as the others nodded in agreement. 'Most likely they're injured and haven't been able to leave a sign. I think we should go back,' he said to Tréville.

'That was my thought too,' Tréville said as he stood up to his full height. 'The manner in which the men on that pyre died also suggests that they were killed by our men. If they knew that they were meant to be on the pyre they may have decided to make it look as though it was them to stop the enemy looking for them. The fact that they haven't returned, and they weren't able to appear to you when you were there, indicates that they are in trouble.'

'What about D'Artagnan?' Gabriel asked.

'For now, no-one else is to know,' Tréville said seriously.

'But Captain, he's in a very dark place. This may lift his mood,' Vasselin said uncertainly.

'He would insist on coming and he is not ready for that,' Tréville glanced at his men and could see that they were unsure. 'We don't know anything except that those bodies weren't theirs. What if we do find them dead? To lift his spirits and send them crashing again is not something I'm willing to do.'

'Good point,' Gabriel nodded as Joubert and Vasselin also nodded their agreement.

'Get yourselves ready, we leave as soon as possible,' Tréville ordered. 'And under no circumstance do you say anything about where we are going.'

The men nodded and left leaving Tréville to wonder at his decisions.

Half an hour later they were ready. Tréville had instructed Colbert, one of the elder members of the regiment, to take charge in his absence. Tréville had made it clear that should Louis need him, Colbert was to respond that he didn't know exactly where his captain was but was sure he would be back soon.

Tréville had checked on D'Artagnan and found both him and Constance, who was in the chair by the bed, asleep. That had taken some weight off his mind as he hadn't needed to lie to either of them.

They left the garrison behind and knew they would be fighting against the light but all of them knew that they had to find evidence of the Inseparables, somehow.

* * *

As they travelled a thought had occurred to Tréville. Many years ago he was sure he and the Inseparables had needed to take shelter on the same road. He was certain that they had taken shelter in a cave near the trees where the burnt bodies had been found. It was possible that they may have sought shelter in the same cave this time. The only problem was that the cave was very secluded and would be difficult to find in the fading light.

Tréville and the musketeers arrived at the site of the pyre which was still visible and quickly set out to find any clues that they could. The darkness was closing in as the cloud cover meant that the light didn't last as long as it would have done had it been clear. Thankfully, it wasn't raining but it was possible that the rain had washed away signs of the Inseparables.

'Captain,' Gabriel approached Tréville who still frantically trying to remember where the cave was. 'It's too dark. We need to rest and start again when it's light.'

'No,' Tréville said forcefully. 'We have to keep looking.'

'Captain,' Vasselin tried. 'You know I hate agreeing with Gabriel, but we're all tired and even with lanterns we can barely see. We are much more likely to see something in the morning.'

'It's not giving up,' Joubert added as Tréville sighed deeply. He needed to find them but right now they could barely see their own hands in front of them.

'Alright,' Tréville conceded. 'As soon as it's light we start again.'

Reluctantly the musketeers made camp and hoped that maybe if the Inseparables were nearby they might see the fire. As time went on it became apparent that no sudden appearance of their missing friend's was going to occur.

Darkness shrouded them all and the atmosphere was tense. Tréville took the first watch with Vasselin as Joubert and Gabriel tried to sleep. Eventually, the men swapped but it was clear that none of them were going to get any real rest.

* * *

D'Artagnan woke with a headache and a dull pain in his shoulder. He looked out of the window to see that it was dark. He had clearly slept for a while and he deduced that he must have needed it. He looked around the room and saw Constance dozing in the chair beside him. Once again he was hit with the realisation that his brothers weren't in the room. Tears started to fill his eyes again and he let out a stifled sob.

'D'Artagnan?' Constance called as she stood and leaned over him looking worried.

'I just keep expecting to see them,' D'Artagnan choked out. 'We were always together when any one of us was hurt.'

'I know,' Constance smiled. 'Ever since you came into my life and theirs you were always seen together.'

'What will I do without them?' D'Artagnan asked looking slightly helpless.

'Live,' Constance answered. 'They wouldn't want you throwing your life away because they weren't there.'

'You're right,' D'Artagnan took a deep breath and winced at his headache and the shoulder pain.

'Here,' Constance handed him a pain draught. 'I'll get some food,' she said as she left D'Artagnan alone with his thoughts.

* * *

As the sun rose the clouds had gone and the day soon became light. Tréville and his musketeers quickly gathered their things, they tried to eat but none of them felt very hungry, and started to search the trees in earnest. Gabriel pointed out where the paper bearing the names Athos, Porthos and Aramis had been attached to the trees. Many bodies still littered the ground nearby.

'They put up one hell of a fight,' Vasselin observed. Rain had washed a lot of the blood into the ground but due to the slight shelter they were still able to see some tracks here and there.

Tréville was frantically trying to remember where the cave was. It had been many years since he had been near this area and it had changed quite a lot.

They continued to search for the best part of an hour until they realised that Joubert had disappeared.

'Did you see which way he went?' Tréville asked looking slightly confused.

'That way, I think,' Vasselin pointed into some pretty thick bushes.

'Captain!' Joubert's cry sent chill through the other men as they raced in the direction of the shout.

They found him kneeling down next to a familiarly dressed body lying face down on the ground.

'Help me turn him over,' Joubert said to no-one in particular.

Gabriel knelt down and carefully they turned the man over as the stricken man let out a groan.

'Aramis?' Tréville knelt to while Vasselin disappeared further into the bushes.

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

'Tie'em up,' Raymond ordered as the men complied. 'Build a pyre. I don't want them to be recognisable.' The musketeers shared worried glances. 'My name is Raymond, by the way,' he said with a grin.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis found themselves being dragged towards the trees. Aramis was hissing with pain coming from his left arm and right calf. His ribs were surely bruised as well.

Athos wasn't fairing much better as the wound to his left thigh continued to ooze blood and his left calf was also bleeding. His left leg could no longer bear much weight, if any.

Porthos was now cursing his head which was starting to thump from being hit with the pistol butt. All in all, he deduced he wasn't too badly off compared to the others.

Their hands were secured behind the trees and Aramis grimaced hard but managed to swallow the groan that threatened to escape him.

'Some nasty wounds you've got there,' Raymond sneered as he moved towards them. 'I'll give you due credit. Musketeers are bloody difficult to kill,' he laughed.

'That's why you brought so many men then,' Athos said with an expressionless look. He was doing his best to ignore the pain in his left leg.

'Indeed,' Raymond smirked. 'Those'll soon be ready for you,' he nodded his head towards the mass of sticks and logs his remaining men were collecting. Clearly they had come prepared as some of the thicker logs could only have been cut using an axe and had been chopped already in preparation. The Inseparables felt themselves all swallow thickly.

'Since you know my name, perhaps I should know yours,' he smiled a sickening smile. 'You,' he pointed at Athos.

'Athos,' the musketeer replied in a very bored voice.

'Aramis,' the marksman answered with an expressionless look when Raymond pointed at him.

'And you,' he pointed at Porthos.

'Porthos,' the big musketeer met Raymond's blue eyes and for a moment Raymond flinched making Porthos smirk.

Raymond recovered and stamped on Porthos' left knee making the musketeer bite his lip but no sound escaped him. Raymond disappeared for a moment and returned carrying a quill and paper. He then wrote their names down and pinned the paper to the correct trees using some nails and the butt of his pistol.

'Just so I can tell my men who to strap to the pyre first,' Raymond grinned.

'I assume you mean for us to burn alive,' Athos drawled but the slight hitch in his breath gave away the pain he was in.

'Of course,' Raymond answered with an air of 'isn't it obvious'.

'These are pretty nice,' a shorter man appeared carrying Aramis' pistols before coughing violently.

'They go on the fire,' Raymond said coldly. 'Anything that links to them goes on the fire.'

'I had them engraved myself,' Aramis whined as his beloved pistols were carried away.

'They'll go to hell with you,' another large man said carrying a large log. The large and medium logs had been collected and the men were now transferring them from the trees to a sparser area just out of sight.

'We don't want to burn down all the trees,' Raymond said with grin as the musketeers watched.

Aramis caught Athos' eye and immediately knew that Athos had a plan. Most likely they would be overpowered but right now dying any other way than burning to death was a victory. Athos using just his eyes looked down as if behind the tree and Aramis could see that Athos was having some luck in managing to wriggle out of his ropes.

Aramis had had no such luck and turned to Porthos who knitted his eyes brows together to ask 'What?' Aramis looked around but nobody was watching them. He tilted his head to the right to indicate Athos and then, as Athos had done, looked down as if he was looking behind him. Porthos saw Aramis move his fingers and immediately understood. Athos was working his ropes free.

Raymond appeared again but didn't seem to notice anything untoward. The logs and sticks had been redistributed and the Inseparables couldn't see where.

'I'll be honest, I expected my men back by now,' Raymond said breaking the silence. 'That boy must have put up quite the fight.'

'D'Artagnan is a very capable musketeer,' Athos said. To most people it would have just been a blunt statement but Aramis and Porthos could hear the pride in his voice.

'I sure my men will drag him back to join you,' Raymond sneered.

'I doubt that,' Aramis smiled.

'Yeah, we taught 'im well,' Porthos added with his own smile.

Raymond suddenly looked nervous which pleased the musketeers. Aramis glanced over to Athos and found that Athos was nearly free. They would have to wait for their moment though as Athos' mobility was limited.

'You three,' he pointed to three of his men. 'You will stay and guard the scum and once the pyre is built attach them to it and set it alight,' he sneered at the musketeers who all did their best to look bored. 'You two with me. The rest of you, once the pyre is built get out of here. You three can handle them can't you?' he looked to the men he had originally picked out and they all nodded.

The musketeers now knew that Raymond had made a mistake. Even in their compromised states they would be a difficult opponents for the three men, assuming the others had gone far enough not to hear the scuffle and return to help. This was an opportunity but at small one. They would have to seize the moment.

Aramis looked around to Athos and could now see that his brother's hands were free and Athos was holding the rope. Athos blinked for a second longer to acknowledge that he was free. Aramis turned to Porthos and did the same. Porthos understood immediately.

'I'll have to throw your young one of the fire while it is burning because I doubt I'll be back before my men set you alight,' Raymond gave a sickening grin.

'Who d'you work for?' Aramis asked. 'Just curious,' he added.

Raymond thought about answering. He didn't like giving information away like that but these musketeers were never going to escape.

'The Duke of Lorraine,' he smiled before aiming a thunderous kick at Aramis' left side. Bones cracked and could be heard all around as Aramis fought for breath. Raymond snickered before disappearing with two of his men.

A few minutes later Raymond's men entered the clearing. The big man who had been carrying the large log was giving orders. Soon the musketeers were left with just three men in front of them and they could hear the horses riding away.

'So, who wants to be tied to the pyre first?' the big man sneered gleefully. 'Nobody?' The musketeers were looking at the men. One man had the little finger missing on his left hand and the other was wheezing slightly and coughing intermittently.

'We do this one at a time,' he said to the other men. 'Let's get the dark one on first,' he sneered at Porthos in disgust as though the musketeer had truly offended him.

Porthos gave a fleeting glance to Aramis and Athos and looks said it all. Keep them busy. Porthos steeled himself as three against one wasn't exactly easy with his banging head and a man about the same size as him as well.

The moment his ropes were released Porthos started to fight. He kicked and punched where he could he roared loudly and started calling them all the names under sun.

Athos watched as Porthos fought and all the attention was on the fighter. Athos moved as quickly as he could with his lame leg and quickly untied Aramis' ropes. Together they slowly rose waiting for their chance. This would have to be quick.

Athos could barely move but saw his opportunity and nodded to Aramis. The large one had his back to Athos and Aramis. Aramis jumped on the man's back causing him to stagger away from Porthos while Athos took the dagger held at the man's back. Athos thrust the dagger into the man's heart as his left leg started to tremble.

Porthos caught the smallest man who had been coughing and with one movement snapped his neck but suddenly Porthos cried out as the final man sliced Porthos' right thigh causing the musketeer to fall to the ground. The man with the lost finger then bludgeoned Porthos on the head with the butt of a pistol.

'Porthos!' Aramis cried.

The remaining man looked around and saw Athos collapsed on the ground, as well as Porthos but Aramis was heading for the large man and the pistol wedged in his belt.

The man ran thinking he would be far enough away but fell as the bullet entered his skull. Aramis was holding the smoking pistol in his hand and collapsed to his knees.

'Everyone ok?' he asked breathing heavily and wincing. He knew his ribs were broken but as far as he could tell he hadn't punctured a lung. When the high of the fight left him he knew he would be in agony.

'Fine,' Athos' drawl was music to Aramis' ears but there was no response from Porthos.

'Porthos,' Aramis scrambled as fast as he could towards his brother as Athos crawled as fast as he could. 'Porthos?' Still no answer.

Aramis turned his friend slightly and could feel the large bump already forming on the back of Porthos' head. Aramis also noticed the blood flowing from the gash on Porthos' right thigh.

'How bad?' Athos asked as he arrived.

'Not good,' Aramis replied as he took Porthos' pulse.

'We need to get their bodies on the pyre,' Athos said nodding at the fallen men. 'If Raymond returns then he'll know to look for us otherwise.'

'I know,' Aramis said as he gently placed Porthos on the ground.

'How bad are you?' Athos asked looking worried.

'My ribs are broken,' Aramis answered honestly. 'You?'

'My left leg is somewhat out of action,' Athos answered.

'Let's get the bodies on that pyre,' Aramis winced as he stood and saw a long sturdy stick that he handed to Athos as he helped him stand.

They managed to drag the largest body together but it was slow work. They were both worried that Raymond would return soon. The pyre was built like a pyramid with hefty logs in a tringle base which were keeping the large logs leaning towards the middle in place. In between the large logs were sticks and branches that would burn easily. Aramis and Athos retrieved their weapons from the pyre and Athos smirked as Aramis gave his beloved pistols a kiss.

Aramis noticed Athos' expression. 'What can I say? I love my pistols,' he gave a small grin.

Both Athos and Aramis were out of breath but they couldn't afford to stop. They returned and both gathered the rope that had been used to bind them and managed to drag the other two bodies to the pyre. Athos was leaning heavily on his stick as he pulled the sick man's body and Aramis was becoming more aware of his broken ribs as he pulled the man with the missing finger.

Somehow they attached the bodies to the pyre. There was a lit fire nearby and they lit the pyre and hoped their ruse would not be discovered by Raymond.

They hobbled back to Porthos who hadn't woken which made them very worried. Aramis whistled for the horses but to no avail. He noticed the horses of the three men in the distance and found some food and supplies in the saddlebags. Unfortunately, none of the men carried any medicine or bandages. He untied the horses and smacked them on the rump to make them ride away. There was no way they could ride in their conditions and they would be riding directly towards Raymond.

'There's that cave near here,' Athos said looking very tired.

'Yeah, I know the one you mean,' Aramis answered. 'We have to go.'

Together they dragged Porthos both knowing they would have to apologise for the bruises the big man would receive as they were unable to lift him. They knew the cave well as they had sheltered in it many times. They quickly found the cave and Aramis set to work on their injuries, starting with Porthos who had lost a lot of blood but the head wound was worrying Aramis. Aramis cleaned and bandaged the wound on the thigh with strips of his own shirt. Athos winced when he saw the bruise blossoming on the marksman's ribcage.

Athos was next and with strips from his own shirt and Aramis' the wounds were cleaned and bandaged. Thankfully both wounds had started to congeal but Aramis was still worried about infection.

Finally, Athos glared at Aramis strongly enough so that he could clean the wounds on the marksman's calf and arm.

They were in a pitiful state and they knew it.

Aramis occasionally went to see if anyone had arrived but he knew he had to be careful of Raymond returning. Half an hour later Raymond returned with his men but not with D'Artagnan. Aramis quietly moved back to the cave.

'He's back but D'Artagnan isn't with them,' Aramis told Athos who was struggling to stay awake next to the unconscious Porthos.

'Let's hope he'll come back...with help...' Athos suddenly collapsed and Aramis quickly took his pulse.

Aramis sighed and tried to fight the weariness that threatened to overcome him. He was filled with worry for his friends and he had lost blood and had difficulty breathing. This was not looking good. He couldn't leave a sign for the musketeers as that may lead Raymond to them. He had to stay awake.

The hours past and he knew that Raymond was still there. What was the man waiting for? Then it hit him, now Raymond wanted the bodies to be found. He had told them he didn't but why wait otherwise. Did that mean that D'Artagnan did indeed get back to the garrison? Was Raymond waiting to watch with glee as the men on the fire were retrieved?

Aramis was feeling woozy and he heard what he thought may be hooves in the distance. He moved closer to take a look and thought he heard voices that he recognised. He had to stay awake!

Aramis couldn't help the weariness that overcame him. The last thing he remembered was hearing a familiar voice. Gabriel maybe?

 **END FLASHBACK**

* * *

'Aramis,' Tréville called again, desperate for a reaction.

'Hmmm,' was all Tréville got as an answer as Aramis didn't open his eyes.

Tréville took stock of his musketeer. Aramis' shirt was ripped and there was an alarmingly purple bruise over his left ribs, indicating that they were most likely broken and a wound on his left arm that was looking very red and angry.

'Captain!' Vasselin cried. 'They're here.'

Tréville left Aramis with Joubert and he and Gabriel headed towards Vasselin. In the mouth of the cave they could see Athos and Porthos haphazardly bandaged, which answered what had happened to Aramis' shirt.

'Are they alive?' Tréville managed to ask but his voice was shaky.

'Just,' was Vasselin's reply.

* * *

 **A/N: So our guys are in pretty bad shape and I hope this is good explanation for what happened.**

 **Update will be when I can do it. Should certainly be by next Monday but hopefully sooner depending on the time I have.**

 **Thank you for continuing to read, review, follow and favourite. It does mean a lot. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So we continue. This chapter didn't quite get me as far as I originally thought. Due to some ideas that have been suggested this story may now be a bit longer than I first intended. Since I'm rubbish at estimating I can't tell you how much is left but I still don't think it will be too long.**

 **Anyway. Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Tréville swallowed hard as he took in the sight of his men. All were clearly in a bad state and the fact they had been left for so long didn't help. The location of the cave was well secluded and therefore he couldn't blame anyone for missing it the first time. In the dark the night before it would have been unlikely that they would have found it either.

'Captain?' Vasselin looked questioningly to Tréville.

'Joubert,' Tréville called and moments later the man appeared. 'Between you carry them,' he indicated Athos and Porthos who hadn't showed any signs of waking. 'I'll carry Aramis. Let's get them to the horses and back to Paris. There's nothing we can do here and we need to get them back as soon as possible.'

The men nodded and set to work. As Tréville turned away he heard Athos groan and turned back to see Gabriel gently lifting Athos over his shoulder. Vasselin and Joubert were organising themselves to move Porthos.

Tréville moved back through the bushes to locate Aramis and saw the marksman looking up at him but his brown eyes were very unfocused.

'Cap'n?' he grumbled blinking again and again as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

'It's ok,' Tréville said softly as he knelt beside Aramis and touched the injured man's cheek gently. 'You're badly hurt. We found Athos and Porthos and we're going to get you home.'

Aramis appeared to accept Tréville comments as he tried to nod slightly but winced at the action.

'Hey. Stay awake,' Tréville used a softer version of his commanding tone. 'You've broken ribs so I need you to help me here. Stay on your right when I place you over my shoulder.' Aramis settled for a long blink to mean he understood.

Carefully Tréville moved Aramis onto his right shoulder on the right side of Aramis's ribs. He started to walk carefully through the bushes and could hear the others approaching from behind him. They moved the injured men towards the horses with as much care as possible. Tréville gently placed Aramis on the ground and was pleased to see that Aramis was still awake. He had the start of a fever which was concerning and those ribs would have to be carefully monitored. He was also clearly dehydrated but the cool of the rain may have helped delay the onset of fever but the rain itself could have caused problems as well.

Tréville watched as Gabriel gently placed Athos on the ground. A moan could be heard from the swordsman. Porthos was placed on the ground and made no noise at all which was deeply worrying.

Tréville quickly retrieved his water-skin and helped Aramis drink from it. He watched as the marksman looked forlornly towards his brothers after taking in some fluid.

'You did everything you could,' Tréville knew Aramis well enough to know that the man was blaming himself for not doing more. 'Drink some more and we'll soon be back in Paris.'

'D'Art...?' was all Aramis could croak.

'D'Artagnan returned to the garrison,' Tréville decided not to mention the young man's shoulder wound. That would just make Aramis worry more for no reason as at present the young Gascon's life was not under threat although his sanity was another matter.

Gabriel finally managed to encourage Athos to wake for a moment and got him to drink some water. Porthos still remained silent and unconscious.

'Let's get them on the horses,' Tréville ordered quickly. They needed to get back to Paris as soon as possible.

Vasselin mounted first while Joubert kept his horse steady Tréville and Gabriel passed Porthos up to him. Vasselin nodded when Porthos was secure. For a moment Porthos let out a small sound and Vasselin thought he had imagined it. Porthos' eyes were open slightly but it was clear Porthos wasn't fully awake.

'Joubert, your water-skin. Quickly,' Vasselin instructed hastily. Vasselin somehow managed to get Porthos to drink some water before the large musketeer passed out again.

Quickly, Athos was placed in front of Gabriel and Aramis with Joubert. Both of the injured men had passed out again but it was comforting to know that they had been awake, even for a short time.

They set off at a speed which would hopefully not injure their comrades but would get them back top Paris as quickly as possible.

* * *

D'Artagnan woke and saw the sun streaming through the window. It had to be near midday. His shoulder was still sore and his heart was still broken but today he felt better.

Constance entered and smiled when she saw him. 'You look better,' she said as she brought over some broth and some crusty bread.

'Just thinking back to my first days here,' D'Artagnan said sounding reflectful.

'You mean when you went charging in to kill Athos and ended up fighting all three of them when I warned you not to?' Constance gave a warm smile.

'I meant after that,' D'Artagnan gave a small chuckle. 'You know, after saving Athos and killing Gaudet...and making you dress up as a prostitute.'

'I did that for Athos!' Constance slapped him lightly on his left arm. 'And I said it would never be spoken of again!' She was doing her best to look cross but was failing as she kept giving small smiles.

'I remember my first few weeks as a cadet,' D'Artagnan started and Constance sat in the chair beside his bed and thrust a plate of food in front of him. 'I wasn't with them very often but all the other cadets looked at them as though they were gods. I just saw them as Athos, Porthos and Aramis.'

'You never told them this I hope,' Constance said with a smile.

'What? That the others thought they were gods or that I didn't?' D'Artagnan replied with a familiar mischief in his eyes.

'Both,' Constance answered as she bit into the bread she had brought.

'They already knew,' D'Artagnan replied with a chuckle. 'One of the other cadets, Marchal, looked at me in awe when I returned from speaking to them. He told me that nobody walks up to them and starts talking!'

'They were intimidating for most of the cadets,' Constance reasoned. 'You just got to know them differently.'

'They are the best,' D'Artagnan suddenly looked sad. 'They were the best,' he corrected himself as he took a bite of the bread and Constance squeezed his left forearm lightly.

'That they were,' she agreed. 'Aramis would also say he was the most handsome,' she smiled.

'He did often say that,' D'Artagnan smiled remembering Aramis' devotion to his appearance and how he seemed to know every woman in Paris. 'I learnt so much from them.'

Together they ate the broth and bread quietly but the atmosphere was far lighter than it had been the days before. Constance left the room for moment leaving D'Artagnan alone. He couldn't help but focus on something Vasselin had said the day before. 'They were badly burnt.'

He couldn't help but wonder whether the bodies might not have been those of Athos, Porthos and Aramis. Come to think of it he hadn't seen Vasselin at all, not since yesterday afternoon, and neither had he seen the Captain. Both men had made a point about checking on him consistently and surely would have updated him on Poupart's findings. Unless...

Constance had entered the room without him noticing.

'D'Artagnan?' she asked.

'Have you seen the Captain or Vasselin recently?' he asked.

'No actually,' Constance creased her brow. 'Must be on a mission.'

'I guess...but the Captain rarely leaves the garrison,' D'Artagnan still looked confused. There were very few reasons for Tréville to leave the garrison but most of them included concern for his own men or Louis' orders. It was possible that Louis had sent him on a mission but D'Artagnan didn't think so. Was the impossible possible?

D'Artagnan was jolted out of his thoughts as the door opened again and revealed Marchal who has just received his own commission a few weeks ago.

'I heard what happened,' Marchal looked apologetic. His ginger hair did make him stand out along with his green eyes and freckles.

'You just back?' D'Artagnan asked.

'Yeah, thankfully it was rather boring,' he said with a sad smile. A thought occurred to D'Artagnan.

'Have you seen the Captain yet?' D'Artagnan asked.

'Not here,' Marchal replied. 'He put Colbert in charge. If you ask me Colbert is pretty annoyed. You know how much he hates dealing with the King!'

'Any idea where he went?' D'Artagnan pressed.

'Apparently, he left with Vasselin, Joubert and Gabriel yesterday,' Marchal shrugged. 'No-one knows where they went.'

D'Artagnan couldn't help but feel his heart lighten. Tréville would risk everything, including the King's wrath, for Athos, Porthos and Aramis.

'I can never truly know how hard it is for you,' Marchal was speaking again, 'I know you were close.'

'Thanks Marchal,' D'Artagnan held his left hand out due to his right currently being too painful to move. Marchal shook his hand and left.

D'Artagnan turned to Constance who was giving him a quizzical look. 'What?' he asked.

'Something's changed,' she said looking at him as if she could decipher it by staring at him.

'I was just happy to see Marchal,' D'Artagnan replied. He didn't want to voice his thoughts just in case he was wrong. He wasn't wrong, he was sure of that.

* * *

A couple of hours passed and still nothing. Constance was constantly watching him and D'Artagnan was starting to feel suffocated. He couldn't tell her his thoughts but the hope had been building in his chest and he was now convinced that they were alive. He was also somewhat annoyed that if that was the case, why hadn't anyone told him?

There was suddenly a lot of noise and commotion coming from the courtyard. Something must have happened.

The door to the infirmary burst open and Tréville stalked in looking grim.

'Stay put,' he ordered to D'Artagnan with a jab of his finger and stepped away from the door. D'Artagnan held his breath for what seemed like hours as the first stretcher was carried in.

Porthos.

D'Artagnan tried to move but a pain shot through his shoulder and Constance pushed him back onto the bed with a stern expression.

The next stretcher. Aramis.

D'Artagnan watched for the third stretcher. There had to be a third. Yes, there it was. Athos.

It didn't concern D'Artagnan that his brothers were clearly badly injured. All that he cared about was that they were alive.

'Strip them and check for all their injuries. Somebody find Dr. Durant and drag him here if necessary,' Tréville barked. 'Try not to cut their doublets, you know what they're like,' Tréville said to the musketeers trying to undress the Inseparables. 'Anything else just cut to get to their injuries.'

'I'll get some water to boil,' Constance said immediately and Tréville gave her a nod as she left.

Tréville made his way over to D'Artagnan. 'How's your shoulder?' he asked.

'Why didn't you tell me?' D'Artagnan asked surprising himself with the question.

'I asked first,' Tréville replied with a stern expression. The Captain never liked being questioned.

'Sore,' D'Artagnan said quickly and truthfully because he wanted his question answered.

Suddenly Aramis cried out as his doublet was removed and his ribs were pressed.

'Be careful of his ribs!' Tréville shouted and moved across. He took Aramis' doublet and placed it on the chair noticing the hole in the sleeve. 'Cut the rest,' Tréville added.

Both Athos and Porthos were also making somewhat annoyed moans as they were undressed as well. Although Tréville hated seeing them in pain it at least meant they were responding to pain stimuli which wasn't the case earlier for Porthos. The head wound was probably going to cause problems for the big musketeer.

'Aramis has seriously broken ribs and cuts on his left arm and calf,' Joubert announced as Aramis groaned but didn't open his eyes. Joubert tried to get Aramis to drink some water but the injured man didn't respond.

'Aramis, I know you'll never forgive me for beating you that time but you really should drink some water,' Joubert waited as Aramis' eyes fluttered open and he creased his forehead in confusion.

'You...ne'er 'eat me,' he slurred making Joubert smile.

'No I didn't, but now your awake you're going to drink some water,' Joubert laughed as he managed to get Aramis to sip some water.

'D'Art...?' Aramis croaked after his drink.

'I'm fine,' D'Artagnan answered from his bed as he heard Aramis' muffled question. Aramis couldn't see D'Artagnan because of the throng of bodies but he now knew that D'Artagnan was ok and he gave a small smile as he fell unconscious. Joubert smiled and nodded towards D'Artagnan so the young man knew that Aramis had heard him.

Joubert set about cleaning Aramis' wounds with wine making the marksman wince in pain but he never fully returned to consciousness.

'Athos has damage to his left thigh and calf,' Gabriel announced as he checked Athos over. Athos was barely conscious but was indeed responding to the pain. Gabriel seized the moment to get Athos to drink as Athos looked at him as though he was a strange apparition that couldn't be there.

'Drink,' Gabriel commanded as Athos watched him warily. 'The others are here and are being cared for,' Gabriel insisted. Athos turned his head to the left and could see the throng of people around the beds. He seemed to accept the explanation as he drank the water being offered by Gabriel.

'Porthos has a serious wound to his right thigh and one hell of a bump on his head,' Vasselin announced as he gently tried to free Porthos from his clothes. Porthos was moving and groaning as he was jostled about to get a better look at his thigh but the head injury would remain a concern as he had been unresponsive when they found him originally. Somehow Vasselin managed to get Porthos take a few sips of water but it was clear that Porthos wasn't aware of what was happening around him.

The door to the infirmary swung open to reveal Dr. Durant who wore a very serious expression on his face.

'Right,' he barked. 'Anyone who is surplus to requirements needs to leave now,' he commanded as started to roll up his sleeves.

Many of the musketeers filed out leaving Joubert, Vasselin, Gabriel, Tréville and D'Artagnan in the room with the three injured men.

'Tell me what has happened,' Durant said as he moved towards the injured men. The various states of the men were relayed and Durant moved to his bag to take out provisions.

'All the wounds appear to be inflamed so I'd rather not stitch them for now,' he said as he searched for provisions in his bag. 'I would prefer using poultices until the inflammation goes down and continue washes with wine or if you have it whiskey or brandy.'

'I can get brandy if that would be better,' Tréville said and nodded towards Vasselin, Joubert and Gabriel who all left.

'It would if you can,' Durant nodded. Constance returned with a couple of cadets behind her carrying pans of water. She quickly put one pan on the fire to boil. 'For them to drink when it's cooled,' she said as Dr. Durant looked at her with a confused expression. 'The other water is for treating the fevers,' she said as the cadets placed the other pans on the table and left.

Doctor Durant started on Athos as he checked the swordsman's leg. Tréville hovered nearby and D'Artagnan remained in bed having already felt the Captain's glare.

'Flesh wounds,' Durant announced as he examined Athos' leg. 'They're infected but from what I can see no damage to the tendons and ligaments.' He attached a poultice to the each of the wounds hoping that the infection would seep out.

'Meaning?' Tréville hated it when doctor's used fancy words.

'He should regain full use of the leg over time,' Durant said but Tréville could tell there was more.

'But?'

'He has lost a lot of blood and with the infection and dehydration he may struggle to recover,' Durant replied honestly.

Tréville sighed and nodded that he understood.

Durant moved to Aramis who was wheezing and breathing very shallowly due to his broken ribs.

'The ribs are broken but don't appear to be out of place too much,' Durant said seriously. 'I'd rather not bind them unless we have to as binding also risks puncturing a lung. The cuts to his arm and calf are infected. I would reckon that he hasn't lost as much blood as Athos. His ribs are affecting his breathing but I'm surprised he is as bad as this.' Durant looked to Tréville for an explanation.

'Aramis used his energies to treat Athos and Porthos. I believe he may have exhausted himself,' Tréville answered as D'Artagnan continued to listen to every word and Constance kept quiet near the fire.

'Let's hope his didn't exhaust himself too much,' Durant mumbled as he strapped more poultices to Aramis' wounds.

Durant moved on to Porthos and winced as he saw the thigh wound. 'He's lucky it wasn't any deeper,' Durant said absentmindedly as he strapped on a poultice. 'It's definitely infected and he has lost a lot of blood. Has he had any water?'

'Yes,' Tréville answered. 'But not much.'

'Some is better than none,' Durant said offhandedly. 'This head wound is large,' he said as he felt the bump on the back of Porthos' head. The big musketeer let out a low groan which made Durant smile, 'He is responding to pain.'

'He wasn't originally,' Tréville wiped the back of his neck with his and in a nervous gesture.

'But he is now which an improvement,' Durant pointed out. 'He has lost a lot of blood and like the others he will be fighting infection.'

'Their chances?' Tréville asked dreading what could come next.

'Honestly, you will need some luck for one of them to survive. A minor miracle for two...,' he sighed. 'For all three...you need a big favour form the man upstairs.'

'NO!' D'Artagnan's shout rang across the room. 'You're giving up,' D'Artagnan stalked towards the doctor and could barely feel the pain in his shoulder. 'They're stronger than you think!' he was stopped in his charge by Tréville.

'Calm down D'Artagnan,' Tréville said forcefully but calmly.

'He's giving up,' D'Artagnan croaked as he collapsed into Tréville's arms. Durant seemed unperturbed by the hostility from the young musketeer as he smiled sadly.

'D'Artagnan,' Durant moved into D'Artagnan's eye-line. 'I'm telling you how it is. It is a testament to their strength that they are still alive but the infections are likely to get worse and they are weak now. I will do all I can to save them. I promise you that.'

D'Artagnan started to sob in Tréville's arms. He had just got them back and he may yet lose them again. This wasn't fair!

'I need to replenish my stocks,' Durant said to Tréville. 'I will return later.'

'You need money, just let me know,' Tréville said as he steered D'Artagnan back to bed.

During all the commotion Constance had wet some rags and placed them on the injured men's foreheads in an attempt to stop the fevers rising. She knew it wouldn't help a lot but it may help a bit.

'It's not fair,' D'Artagnan sobbed as Tréville manoeuvred the younger man back into bed. D'Artagnan was clearly exhausted and this situation wasn't going to help one bit.

'You asked why I didn't tell you before,' Tréville said as he tucked D'Artagnan under the sheets. 'This was why. I didn't want you to have hope and then have it crashing down. It seems I failed in that.'

D'Artagnan looked to his right and saw his stricken brothers. Porthos was closest, then Aramis and Athos furthest away. 'They're not gone yet,' D'Artagnan looked back to Tréville and could see tears in his Captain's eyes.

'Now would be a good time for three of the most stubborn men in France to put it to good effect,' Constance said as she bustled about. Her comment made both Tréville and D'Artagnan smile.

'She's right lads,' Tréville said to the still bodies. 'Fight for all your worth.'

* * *

 **A/N: I admit that I might be pushing it a bit with these injuries but to me that makes it more fun. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**So next chapter. Here we see some of the other reactions to the news that our Inseparables are still alive, just.**

 **I'm not a doctor so some of the things may be wrong but let's just go with it. I did write this in practically one night and I do keep finding errors so any big ones please let me know.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Tréville left the infirmary to search for Colbert and find out what he had missed. Constance said she was happy to look after the Inseparables and had vowed to make D'Artagnan rest. Tréville doubted whether D'Artagnan would win any kind of disagreement with Madame Bonacieux!

'What did I miss?' Tréville asked Colbert who was sat at the captain's desk writing something.

'King's not happy with you so he shouted at me instead!' the elder musketeer was obviously very rattled. 'And then the Cardinal decides to chip in to make it worse!'

Tréville had stop himself laughing. Colbert now knew what he had to deal with nearly every day.

'What was Louis unhappy about?' Tréville asked already having a good idea.

'You disappearing!' Colbert was truly wound up. 'Sorry sir,' the man deflated. 'I don't know how you do it.'

'With practice and then I usually find someone to shout at afterwards,' Tréville smiled.

'I've distributed the jobs for today,' Colbert said. 'The King said he wanted to see you 'as soon as you got back'. I decided that was when you returned to your office,' Colbert smiled. 'How are they?'

'Not great,' Tréville answered honestly. 'But they're tough. It's D'Artagnan I'm more worried about. If they don't survive...'

'Them lot are the most stubborn men I know,' Colbert. 'They're bond keeps 'em together and they wouldn't leave their new addition alone.'

'I hope you're right,' Tréville sighed. 'I'd better go to the palace and update the King.'

* * *

Anne was becoming rather annoyed with her husband. Since Tréville had disappeared Louis was acting as though it was a personal slight! Anne couldn't help but wonder at the reason for Tréville to leave in such a manner. Her baby kicked as she stroked her stomach and she sighed as Louis continued to rant.

'He leads MY regiment! He can't just disappear like that!' Louis was still pacing in the throne room as Anne sat on her throne.

'While I agree that Tréville should have notified you, surely we all know Tréville would not leave unless it was necessary,' countered the Cardinal. Anne smiled to herself. The Cardinal was much warmer towards the Musketeer Captain nowadays, well at least in public. The secret that Tréville and his men held over the Cardinal's attempt to assassinate her had led the Cardinal to do his best not to irk the men or have any slight secretly whispered to them. Anything to prevent her telling Louis what really happened.

'I agree,' Anne chipped in before Louis could retort. 'You must remember that the whole garrison is still dealing with...their loss,' she said trying to hold her emotions inside.

Louis seemed to deflate at that. 'You're right,' he sighed. 'I doubt he did this to purposely slight me but we have important matters to attend to.' Louis sat on his throne just as the door opened to reveal Captain Tréville.

'Where have you been?' Louis asked before Tréville had even got remotely close.

'I had some pressing matters to attend to,' Tréville answered after he had bowed. Louis was indeed looking miffed but Queen Anne was watching the Captain closely.

'We have an urgent matter to discuss,' the Cardinal started.

'The Duke of Marseille will be arriving the day after tomorrow!' Louis flounced.

'That's very short notice?' Tréville asked as Duke's usually sent word weeks before their arrival.

'Apparently he sent a message ahead but we did not receive it. We had no idea until we received a letter last night,' the Cardinal gave a rather disbelieving sigh at his words.

'I will make sure my men are ready,' Tréville said. This was really the last thing he needed right now.

'Captain...forgive me for asking...but what was so urgent?' the Queen asked with a reassuring small smile. 'A family matter perhaps?'

Tréville did have some distant family but it was well known by everybody in the room that they lived in the south of France and therefore Tréville would not have been able to see them in the time he had been gone. He was well aware of what the Queen was actually asking.

'Yesterday I discovered that the bodies retrieved from the pyre in the woods...were not those of Athos, Porthos and Aramis,' Tréville said trying not to look glad at the news.

'It wasn't them!' the Queen said in a shocked whisper as though she couldn't believe it. She leant back in her throne and he hands subconsciously rubbed her stomach.

'Well, that's excellent news,' Louis smiled but his face fell as he saw Tréville's grim expression.

'I assume they are injured,' Richelieu broke the silence.

'Yes,' Tréville was trying to keep the worry from his voice. 'All of them have received some bad injuries and all are currently fighting infections that will probably worsen. Doctor Durant believes we will need a miracle for all three to survive,' he said dejectedly.

Silence radiated around the room after Tréville's desperate words. Richelieu appeared to notice the Queen's difficulty in hiding her emotions. He already suspected that there was something between her and Aramis but he could never prove it. Even if her child was the musketeer's that fact would never come to light as France desperately needed an heir and Richelieu was not about to put that in jeopardy. If she were to have a second child, which could only be Louis', then he might reconsider.

'Who was worst hit?' Richelieu asked surprising everyone.

'Porthos,' Tréville answered. 'He has a severe wound to his leg and a large head wound. Athos has wounds to his left thigh and calf while Aramis has severely broken ribs and cuts of his own. Infection is our biggest problem.'

Anne couldn't believe it. Aramis was alive but he was severely injured. She couldn't lose him now and he couldn't lose the men closest to him.

Anne suddenly stood surprising everybody. 'I shall go and pray for them all now,' she declared as she stepped down from the podium. Tréville held his hand out so she could step to the floor and she nodded her thanks.

'That's a good idea,' Louis declared as he followed suit. 'I know this is difficult and I will try not to call on you unless I really need you, but I will need you for the Duke,' Louis said with a nod to Tréville. 'Are you coming Cardinal?'

'I will be there shortly, Sire,' Richelieu said as he joined Tréville.

'I doubt you're upset,' Tréville said without thinking and with some malice.

'I don't form loving emotional attachments, you know that,' Richelieu didn't seem annoyed at Tréville's words. 'Despite my dislike of those particular men, I do realise that they are the best we have and it would be a shame to lose them.'

'Thank you,' Tréville said quietly.

'Any idea who attacked your men?' Richelieu asked making Tréville suspect the man knew more than he was letting on.

'No,' Tréville answered. 'All we know was that they wanted the letter. I'll get a description from D'Artagnan.' Tréville chastised himself for not thinking to ask the young man sooner. 'What do you know?'

'Not much,' Richelieu answered. 'My spies say that there is unrest in the households of the Dukes who were spurned in the latest round of letters. They include Épernon, Cassel and Lorraine to name a few.'

'You think a Duke sent men to take the letter to find out what was going on?' Tréville asked seriously.

'I do,' Richelieu answered and Tréville could see that, for once, he was being honest. 'I have no proof, of course, and it would help if my spies had something go on.'

'If I get any information about who attacked them I'll let you know,' Tréville said as he realised it could be very important to find out who had done this even if they couldn't reprimand them without further proof. At least they could keep a watch on them in the future.

'I should join the King, he'll be wondering where I am,' Richelieu left with a swish of his cloak as Tréville turned and headed out of the palace.

He arrived at the garrison and checked on his men. All were still unconscious but Constance did tell him that their fevers had risen. For now, D'Artagnan remained asleep. He doubted that would last.

* * *

Constance bustled around the infirmary taking care of her patients. She knew Jacques would be back in the next few days and she realised how much she missed being around D'Artagnan and the others. Her life had more meaning around them. Jacques had made it clear that she was to stay home where he needed her and she was finding life rather boring again.

She set to work tending the fevers of the men she had come to know well. It truly saddened her to see them all so weak. She was determined that they were all going to recover. She also noticed that they were all in their underwear. They were only wearing their braies which had been cut to access wounds and they were currently wearing nothing on their torsos. Due to the fevers the sheets weren't covering them either. She gave an amused giggle as she looked at them. Would they be offended that she had seen them? Probably not. The large purple bruise on Aramis' chest was difficult to ignore but she dared to look closer and found that they all had scars from various wounds. Some small, some large, some faded and some new. These were tough men who had already survived so much. Surely this was not to be their end?

D'Artagnan was currently sleeping, mainly due to exhaustion. She looked over to him wondering how he would cope now that he knew they were alive but were seriously injured. She vowed she would see this through but she did hope that they would at least wake and be on the road to recovery by the time her husband returned.

Tréville checked on everything when he returned but he appeared stressed and in need of a decent night's sleep himself. He left after an update and Constance hoped he would get some rest.

Constance heard a small groan and looked towards D'Artagnan before realising that he hadn't made the sound. She checked the other three and saw and heard nothing. Maybe she had imagined it.

She sighed and was startled when Vasselin came in to check on them moments later.

'How are they?' he asked.

'Fevers are getting worse,' she said sadly.

'They'll fight it,' he sounded determined and then suddenly yawned widely.

'I think you're in need of rest, Monsieur,' Constance said with a warm smile.

'Didn't get much rest last night,' he admitted.

'I've got this and D'Artagnan will help when he wakes,' she smiled. 'I doubt anyone will stop him.'

'You could,' Vasselin replied with a cheeky wink as he left.

Constance returned to her pan of water and re-wet the rags she was using to cool their temperatures. She was worried to find that they had risen again.

* * *

Anne was in her chambers trying to come to terms with what she had been told. Aramis was alive but was severely injured. She thought she had lost him forever but it was possible he would live. He **had** to live.

She had sent her ladies away again and had heard them grumbling as they left. Thankfully she could blame her mood swings on her current condition and nobody was any the wiser. She lay down on her bed and stared at the canopy. Waiting for news was the worst thing and she could hardly send a message to Tréville asking about them when he had just told her it wasn't good.

She would have to wait...and hope...and pray.

* * *

Constance continued to work diligently. Marchal had appeared at one point to give her some broth with some bread and cheese as he told her she had to eat as well. Honestly, she had forgotten about eating and was surprised at how hungry she was.

D'Artagnan woke just as the sun started to set. Unfortunately, she had been unable to rouse the others and was becoming worried as they hadn't drunk anything since they had been brought back.

Doctor Durant made an appearance and apologised for being late as he had been called to a troublesome birth that had taken most of the day. The mother and child were weak but he hoped they would both survive.

He cleaned the wounds again with the brandy that Tréville had asked to be bought and replaced the poultices. All three men showed signs of discomfort with the cleaning and re-dressing but did not wake. Durant said it was good that they had shown the pain response but he was clearly worried.

D'Artagnan was told not to exert himself, although the doctor's tone suggested that he didn't believe his advice would be adhered to. D'Artagnan's wound was healing well and infection had been avoided which was good news.

The doctor left saying he would be back in the morning but if the situation was desperate he could be woken. It was obvious that he hoped that wouldn't be the case as the man looked rather exhausted himself.

'Constance you need to rest,' Tréville said with a yawn as he had come to check on his men when the doctor arrived.

'You need it more than me,' Constance smiled.

'We'll alternate,' D'Artagnan said defiantly as he showed he could wet and wring the rags with his left hand and place them on his brothers' foreheads.

Tréville thought about telling him 'no' but he knew D'Artagnan needed it.

'Ok, but you wake someone if you need to,' he said to both of them as he left and they nodded. He'd ask D'Artagnan tomorrow about who attacked them.

Many hours passed and Constance fell asleep on one of the free beds. D'Artagnan was now in a ritual of soaking, wringing and placing the rags on his brothers' foreheads. He stopped for a moment as he noticed something. He touched Aramis' forehead and he could have sworn the marksman was cooler.

'Aramis?' he called but got no response. 'Aramis?' he tried more urgently and still nothing.

'What is it?' Constance's voice travelled to him and then she walked over.

'He's cooler. I'm sure of it,' D'Artagnan said pleadingly as if asking her to confirm he was right.

Constance touched Aramis' forehead. 'I agree,' she said with a smile. 'He'll wake soon I'm sure.'

'He better,' D'Artagnan said through gritted teeth as he moved on to Porthos.

Between them they continued to nurse Athos and Porthos and hoped that Aramis would wake now that his fever appeared to be reduced. Once Aramis was awake they would both feel better even though they would continue to worry for Athos and Porthos.

Just as the sun started to rise they were rewarded as Aramis let out a muffled groan of pain and moved his right hand up to his throbbing head. They rushed over, one each side of his bed.

'Aramis?' D'Artagnan called.

'Leave...alone,' he mumbled making both D'Artagnan and Constance smile.

'Come on, open your eyes,' Constance chimed lightly.

Aramis slowly lowered his hand and stared groggily up at them. He looked around the room. 'Garr...ison?' he asked with a painful hitch in his breath.

'You're home Aramis,' D'Artagnan said as he continued to block Porthos from Aramis' sight.

'Have some water,' Constance said as she poured the now cooled water that she had boiled earlier. Constance managed to lift Aramis head to help him drink alone as she glared at D'Artagnan to stop him helping. 'Better?' she asked and Aramis gave a long blink in answer.

Aramis moved his head to his left and could see D'Artagnan blocking his view. 'Move,' he said with a glare that was surprisingly strong.

D'Artagnan moved out of the way to reveal the stricken Porthos on the adjacent bed. Aramis' eyes filled with tears as he slowly moved his head to the right. Constance moved to revel Athos.

Aramis started to sob quietly.

'Aramis it's alright,' D'Artagnan said. He was torn as he was so happy that Aramis had woken but Aramis was now distressed at the fate of his brothers, just as he had been.

'No, not having any of that,' Constance said sounding business-like. Aramis' head was hurting but he gave her a quizzical look.

'I've already had to deal with him,' she jabbed her finger towards D'Artagnan, 'blaming himself for the three of you dying and I'm not putting up with it from you. It wasn't your fault. You all have fevers and you were seriously injured. Without your help originally it could be worse so don't blame yourself,' she finished as she squeezed his right hand gently as she moved away.

Aramis looked slightly abashed but he still looked forlornly to his stricken brothers.

'Shoulder,' he croaked as he noticed D'Artagnan cradling his right arm. The doctor had given the young man a sling which he stubbornly refused to use.

'I'm fine,' D'Artagnan replied so Aramis looked to Constance who had just brought over a pain draught.

'He got shot,' she replied bluntly. 'Through and through.' D'Artagnan gave an adorable pout as Aramis smiled for the first time. He tried to move his left arm and winced.

'I know you lot think you're invincible but you're in bad shape,' Constance quietly scolded. 'Your ribs are terrible and that bruise is very distracting. The wounds on your arm and leg were infected but I reckon they'll be ok to stitch soon.'

Aramis finally realised how undressed he was and he D'Artagnan shared a mischievous look that Constance didn't see.

'How bad?' he asked looking to Porthos and then Athos.

'They lost a lot of blood and their fevers are very high,' D'Artagnan said with a wince. 'I'm glad you're alive,' he blurted out with an unstifled sob. D'Artagnan had subconsciously placed his left hand on the right side of Aramis' chest and Aramis clasped his hand in his right and squeezed as reassuringly as he could.

Aramis was starting to become drowsy and Constance quickly managed to get him to drink the pain draught and some more water. Even in his current state Constance wouldn't have been surprised if Aramis had deliberately tried to forgo the draught so he would wake from the pain to check on Athos and Porthos.

The marksman was close to sleep when his eyes shot open. 'On...ions...onions,' he managed to whispered before sleep took him.

'Did he just say...onions?' D'Artagnan asked looking confused. He was sure Aramis had meant something and it wasn't just delirious ramblings.

'Onions,' Constance repeated suddenly thinking. 'Onions!' she exclaimed as she rushed out of the room.

'Anybody?' D'Artagnan asked looking at his three brothers who slept on.

He sighed and winced. He sat on Aramis' bed for a moment. His emotions were all over the place. Yesterday he thought they were dead and then they weren't. Now they were fighting for their lives. Aramis appeared to be recovering which was good and made D'Artagnan feel better but his worry for Athos and Porthos had increased. His shoulder still hurt but the physical pain was still secondary to his emotional pain.

He was a mess and he knew it. He needed all of them to get better as it would be likely that he and Aramis would blame themselves for the rest of their days if they didn't.

Constance returned carrying two onions and a knife. She peeled them quickly and then chopped them in half. She found some fresh bandages and beckoned D'Artagnan over to her.

'What are you doing?' D'Artagnan asked looking slightly incredulous.

'I remember an old lady telling me when my father had a stubborn fever that onions strapped to the feet can help reduce the fever,' she explained. 'I think that was what Aramis meant.'

She quickly moved over to Athos and wiped his feet. Athos stirred slightly but not much. Between them they strapped half an onion to each foot. The quickly moved across and did the same for Porthos.

'It may work, it might not,' Constance shrugged. 'It can't hurt.'

D'Artagnan seriously hoped that it would.

A few hours passed and Tréville and Gabriel came in to check on the Inseparables. They were happy to hear that Aramis had woken and had managed to drink some water.

Just after noon Tréville returned again and told D'Artagnan to rest. The Captain looked at his stricken men and decided not ask about the onions that he had only just noticed. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

Doctor Durant finally appeared after huffing many apologies as he had been called out to victims of a fire in the early hours and his wife then admitted she had dosed him with a sleeping draught to get him some sleep!

Tréville laughed at the doctor's explanation. Many times he had secretly been slipped a draught, mostly by Aramis, when he needed sleep and often the Captain had returned the favour.

The doctor declared that Athos and Porthos wounds were almost clear of infection but their temperatures would still take time to reduce. Aramis woke as the doctor checked his wounds and Durant was glad to see at least one them starting to recover.

Aramis' wounds were cleaned again and then stitched. Tréville couldn't help but smile as Aramis seemed unperturbed by the stitching.

'What can you tell me about who attacked you?' Tréville asked trying to distract the marksman.

'Name was Raymond and works for the Duke of Lorraine,' Aramis reeled off. 'Blonde, tall, slightly built and blues eyes.'

'Thank you,' Tréville said. 'We'll get him but you need to rest and recover.' It was unspoken but Aramis also heard 'Don't hurt yourself trying to help the others when you need rest'.

D'Artagnan had woken again with noise and Constance had gone home to wash and change her dress. Tréville also hoped that she managed to sleep for a while as well. He felt bad involving her in this but he doubted he could pull her away even if he tried.

Doctor Durant declared Aramis was well enough to try some broth and Tréville and D'Artagnan left him alone to get some food. The doctor had looked strangely at the onions but had said that, although he didn't believe it would work, they couldn't do any harm. He left Aramis with a smile but Aramis knew the outlook wasn't exactly bright for his brothers. He also knew they would fight to the end.

He tried to push himself up but pain shot through his left side making him cry out and pant at the pain. It took a few minutes for the pain to ease as he stared up at the celling. He looked across to Porthos who had been hurt the worst out of the three of them. He silently prayed for his friend and brother as his hand went his crucifix which was lying on his chest.

It was then that Aramis smiled. A large grin crossed his face. He could feel a familiar icy glare boring into the back of his skull and it had never felt so good.

* * *

 **A/N: Onions were believed to help combat infection. When sickeness such as the plague wasn't understood it was thought that onions around the home could get rid of the smell (which they thought caused disease) and help to keep sickness away. The idea of onions on the feet goes back to the 1800's so I've been a bit ecomnomical with the truth here. However, it was first documented in the 1800's but that doesn't mean it couldn't have been used before that.**

 **Scientifically, there is no suggestion that onions do anything of the sort but many holistic therapies believe that the feet do have centres that relate to other parts of the body. Make of that what you will.**

 **Please let me know what you think. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies for updates all over the place but life got in the way.**

 **I'm sure all of you knew who was awake at the end of the last chapter but what about Porthos?**

 **Just a reminder that all mistakes are mine and if you spot a large one, or an irritating one, please let me know. :)**

* * *

Aramis slowly turned and saw exactly what he expected see. Athos' eyes were open and were staring back at him with a piercing glare. He was so glad to see that glare.

'Why...are there...onions...on my feet?' Athos asked looking slightly revolted.

'Suck out the fever,' Aramis smiled back.

'Really?' Athos raised a disbelieving eyebrow. 'Onions?'

'Apparently,' Aramis chuckled lightly as he felt his ribs protest slightly.

'Porthos?' Athos asked looking worried.

'Not good,' Aramis replied. 'Still hasn't woken.'

'He will,' Athos turned his head back straight to stare at the ceiling. 'D'Artagnan?'

Aramis was about to answer when the door opened and Tréville and D'Artagnan entered.

'See for yourself,' Aramis quipped surprising both Tréville and D'Artagnan, who for a moment didn't understand what Aramis was saying or who he was speaking to.

Aramis grinned and turned to look at Athos who blinked back tiredly.

'You're awake!' D'Artagnan quickly put down the tray he was carrying one-handed and dashed across to Athos.

'Shoulder?' Athos asked and pointed to D'Artagnan's right shoulder.

'It's fine, nothing to worry about,' D'Artagnan dismissed Athos' concern as he was so happy that Athos had woken.

'He got shot,' Aramis' voice drifted across to them and Athos raised a questioning eyebrow.

'But It's healing,' D'Artagnan retorted with an air of annoyance that made Tréville laugh.

'You should know better than to lie to them D'Artagnan,' the Captain chuckled as he poured some water for Athos to drink.

'Here,' Tréville said as he helped Athos first drink some water and then a pain draught. 'Your leg will take a while to heal.'

Athos tried to move his left leg and then felt sharp pains in his thigh and calf making him gasp with the pain.

'You had to test it didn't you?' Tréville mumbled as he moved away and unstrapped the onions from Athos feet. He then gave the feet a quick clean as well.

'I'm so glad you're alright,' D'Artagnan said doing his best not to show too much emotion but Athos seemed to understand as he squeezed D'Artagnan's hand in much the same way Aramis had. Athos' eyes were starting to close as Constance came through the door.

'Well look who's awake,' she smiled and Athos managed a small smile in return as his eyes closed and he fell asleep. 'Right,' she said with a firm voice. 'How are we going to get Aramis sitting up without causing him immense pain?'

'You're not, but just help me,' Aramis replied looking at Tréville.

Between them Constance and Tréville managed to lift Aramis up into a sitting position as D'Artagnan placed pillows at his brother's back. Tréville had to be particularly careful as he was on Aramis' left side. Aramis was sat up and panting at the pain but he felt a whole lot better sitting up than he had done lying down. Tréville also pulled the sheets over him so that his lower body was covered but his torso remained uncovered as the temperature in the room was rising due to the sun outside.

Tréville left Constance to help Aramis while telling D'Artagnan to make sure he ate all of his food as he no longer had an excuse. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

'I can feed myself,' Aramis mumbled looking slightly embarrassed as Constance sat opposite him. Constance handed him the dry spoon and instantly it became clear that Aramis couldn't feed himself broth as the spoon jiggled about in his hand. He sighed as he realised he would have to be fed.

'Thought you of all people would have no problems being fed by a woman,' Constance quipped as D'Artagnan snorted with laughter in the chair beside Aramis' bed. Aramis gave a small smirk.

'I suppose there are worse people to feed me,' he smiled and Constance was happy to see the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes.

Constance managed to spoon feed Aramis and Aramis only looked at D'Artagnan once, fearful of the expression he would see. The younger man was clearly enjoying watching Aramis being fed broth when Aramis was usually the one doing it for the rest of them. The roles were reversed now.

Vasselin and Joubert entered just as Aramis was finishing eating. He had done remarkably well but he didn't think he could take anything solid yet.

'Feeding the baby I see,' Vasselin quipped with a large smirk as Aramis rolled his eyes.

'Athos woke not long ago,' D'Artagnan informed them with a smile as Joubert wandered over to Porthos' bed.

'Two down, one to go,' he said as he looked at Porthos. 'Come on Porthos, you're lagging behind the others and they'll tease you for it.'

'Too right,' Aramis said with a sad smile but warm eyes.

'Definitely,' D'Artagnan was still unable to hide his worry even though he tried to smile.

'Help me lie down would you please?' Aramis panted to Vasselin and Joubert as his ribs were protesting at being sat up for so long.

Together they managed to ease Aramis down and within moments he was asleep.

* * *

Raymond watched the Musketeer garrison as he sought to find the boy that had evaded him. He remembered that one of the prisoners had called the boy 'D'Artagnan', or at least that was what he thought had been said. He had just arrived after a long ride as he tried to escape the Duke's wrath. The Duke of Lorraine was angry that the letter had reached its destination and even more angry that the survivor could possibly identify Raymond.

Raymond knew he had to get rid of the young musketeer to make sure no link could be traced back to Lorraine. The Duke had made it clear, kill the musketeer or don't come back.

Raymond watched the men milling about in the courtyard and as lunch passed he saw the courtyard fill with men again. He realised that around the midday meal the men would go to the mess hall and that he should keep an eye on it. He didn't know if the young man had been badly wounded but a light blood trail made it clear that he had a wound of some sort but it was unlikely to be fatal. His mind wandered to the three of his men that had never returned. Their horses had gone so Raymond assumed that they had left of their own free will. That angered him and he vowed that should he meet those men again he would kill them for their betrayal.

He noticed one musketeer that had found the remains of the captured musketeers and gave a smirk. The man had looked distraught at finding the bodies. He wondered if the same man would be distraught when the young musketeer was found. He might have to wait for that reaction too.

* * *

Tréville decided to go and meet the Cardinal after Aramis had revealed who had attacked them. As much as the relationship between them was strained they often managed to work well together. The Cardinal had many spies and probably his own agenda for bringing these men to justice but as long as Raymond was found Tréville was willing to go along with it.

Tréville walked towards the Cardinal's office and was let in by two red guards.

'Tréville, to what do I owe the pleasure?' the Cardinal said with his usual indifference.

'Aramis has told me that they were attacked by a tall, blonde man with blue eyes called Raymond,' Tréville decided to get to the point. 'Raymond works for the Duke of Lorraine.'

The Cardinal's facial expression changed to one of curiosity at Tréville last statement. 'Aramis is sure that it is Lorraine?' the Cardinal asked as he stood.

'Yes,' Tréville answered trying not to roll his eyes.

'I shall inform my spies in Lorraine,' the Cardinal said as he looked concerned. Tréville turned to leave but the Cardinal spoke again. 'What about the others?' he asked.

'Aramis woke as you know, Athos woke about an hour ago but Porthos is still unconscious,' Tréville informed him.

'There is still time,' the Cardinal said as Tréville nodded and left.

The Cardinal returned to his chair and sat down. The Duke of Lorraine could be vicious and Richelieu knew that information would need to be obtained quickly. Though he didn't particularly like the musketeers he had a begrudging respect for them. It was possible that Raymond didn't know that the musketeers weren't on that pyre but he would certainly know about the one that escaped. D'Artagnan would have to be careful.

* * *

Tréville continued to walk through the palace. He wanted to update the King and reassure Louis everything was ready for the arrival of the Duke of Marseille tomorrow. He knew how the King could worry about such things.

He found King Louis in his chambers talking with the Queen.

'Ah Tréville,' Louis smiled as Tréville entered and bowed.

'Everything is ready for tomorrow,' Tréville said. 'We shall make sure we are ready for the Duke's arrival.'

'Excellent,' Louis beamed.

'And your injured musketeers?' Queen Anne asked quietly. Tréville had to hold back his smile as he had anticipated that the Queen would ask about them the moment he saw her in the room.

'I am glad to inform you that Aramis woke in the early hours and has now been able to eat some broth while Athos woke about an hour ago,' Tréville gave a her a warm smile and he watched as she was unable to hide her relief.

'That is a relief...but what about Porthos?' she asked hesitantly.

'He has yet to wake,' Tréville said despondently.

'I'm sure he will,' Louis said. 'We can't have them split up can we?'

'There is still time but the longer it takes the less likely it becomes that he will wake,' Tréville answered looking glum.

'I will continue to pray for him and all of them,' Anne smiled. 'What about D'Artagnan?'

'He is recovering well and he is very glad to see Aramis and Athos alive. He is obviously still concerned about Porthos, as we all are,' Tréville informed them.

'Well then, we will see you tomorrow Captain,' Louis said with a small smile. 'You look as though you need rest as tomorrow will probably be a long day.'

'Tomorrow then,' Tréville bowed and left. He found himself slightly amused with the Queen's reaction to the news that Aramis and Athos had started to recover. The musketeers had truly left an impression on the Queen. Well, they tended to leave impressions on everybody.

* * *

The day passed quickly and evening was soon upon them. Aramis had woken again and was now trying to eat bread while Athos was trying to down some broth as he was fed by Constance. Aramis and D'Artagnan had secretly decided not to say anything as Athos seemed rather embarrassed by his predicament. Constance also noticed and cheerfully informed Athos that she had done the same for Aramis. Athos' mood seemed to lighten a bit at that news.

D'Artagnan was sulking on his bed as he had been told to eat his food by Tréville who was helping Aramis with his own supper. Porthos still hadn't woken.

The mood in the infirmary was low as the minutes and hours ticked by their concern for Porthos grew. His temperature had reduced and the infection had been reduced. Doctor Durant had said that possibly his inability to wake was due to the head injury as the infection was clearing and his blood levels should have returned to normal. Porthos was clearly dehydrated and that was also a major concern.

Aramis was being a bad patient as he continually tried to get out bed as he claimed his ribs 'weren't too bad' before nearly collapsing. Constance was getting rather annoyed with him. Athos too had been trying to test his left leg and when Constance had her back turned he tried to stand and collapsed into the table by his bed, managing to keep himself upright somehow.

'Right you two,' Constance stood between their beds with her hands on her hips. 'Move again and I will tie you to the beds,' she said seriously. D'Artagnan was sat on his own bed in a silent fit of laughter at her statement.

'Honestly Constance,' Aramis held his hands up in surrender, 'I had no idea you were into that kind of thing,' he smirked.

Constance moved forward and gave him a slap on his right arm and then Athos on his left.

'Ow!' Aramis rubbed his arm dramatically.

'What did I do?' Athos asked doing his best to look innocent.

'You were thinking the same thing,' she answered and stared him down. Athos gave Aramis a look and they both ducked their heads in laughter.

'What am I going to do with you?' she shook her head as she moved away.

They settled down for the night with their worry increasing for Porthos. Constance went home to check if Jacques had sent any word about arriving earlier than expected and secretly hoped that he hadn't. The Inseparables were left alone as Tréville needed the men for duty when the Duke of Marseille arrived so there was no-one to check on Porthos.

D'Artagnan watched for as long as he could before Aramis gave him a telling off and told him to go to sleep. Aramis had been watching his brother when possible while trying to convince everyone he was resting because he was lying down. It was just a matter of waiting for Porthos to wake. 'If he wakes' went unsaid.

The day was starting to dawn when Aramis woke again. He could see D'Artagnan fast asleep and the still form of Porthos to his left. He looked across to his right and saw Athos staring back at him.

'Still nothing?' Athos asked and Aramis shook his head slightly. Athos turned flat on his back.

'Porthos,' he called quietly. 'You know you can't leave us. If you do Aramis will cry and I can't deal with a crying Aramis. You know that.' Aramis was chuckling quietly as Athos' remarks. 'Then he won't get the comfort he needs, I'll feel guilty that I can't give that comfort and D'Artagnan will have to pick up the pieces. Would you honestly leave us like that?' Athos had phrased it as a question but he clearly expected no reply.

'Cor...s'not,' came a muffled and scratchy reply.

Aramis and Athos both turned towards the voice not believing what they had just heard. Aramis could see Porthos' eyes were open a fraction.

He sat up quickly hissing in pain at pulling his ribs. D'Artagnan gave a small grumble but did not wake as Aramis moved out of bed and into the chair next to Porthos' bed. There was a 'flump' behind him and Aramis turned to see Athos bracing himself on Aramis' bed. Remarkably D'Artagnan didn't wake at that sound either.

Aramis gave Athos a look that clearly said 'what do you think you are doing?' Athos' reply was simply a look that said 'I'm coming over there whether you help me on not'.

They stared at each other for moment, brown eyes and blue warring for supremacy. In the end Aramis rolled his brown eyes to concede victory to Athos and stood up and moved over to help Athos limp towards Porthos bed.

Porthos was very drowsy but he was smiling at his brothers. Athos sat on Porthos' bed with his left leg hanging over the side and Aramis took the chair.

Aramis poured some water and then realised that he couldn't lift Porthos' head because of his arm. Athos notice this and shuffled forwards so he could raise Porthos head while Aramis help Porthos to drink. It was a tangle of arms but they managed.

'You had us worried,' Aramis said as Porthos looked at him.

'Very worried,' Athos agreed.

'You...look...'orrid,' Porthos grumbled but there was sense of warmth in his words.

'You look worse,' Athos retorted with a smirk.

'To be fair though...I always look better than him,' Aramis replied cheekily as Porthos glared through his eyelashes but it had no heat in it. This was their default manner. When it's bad, laugh about it.

'Do you have a death wish?' Athos asked Aramis with a raised eyebrow.

'He's not killing me from there,' Aramis said as though it was obvious.

'Yes...but he does have a memory,' Athos pointed out.

'Good point,' Aramis did his best to look worried as smiles appeared moments later. 'How are you feeling?' Aramis stroked Porthos' cheek gently.

'Sore,' Porthos huffed and then tried to move his right leg.

'Argghh!' he shouted as his right leg exploded with pain. Aramis and Athos quickly tried to soothe him. This time D'Artagnan did wake up.

'Porthos, you're awake,' D'Artagnan said as he scrambled out of bed.

Porthos was panting heavily as he noticed D'Artagnan cradling him arm. 'Arm?' he asked as he looked at the younger man.

D'Artagnan sat on the bed and rolled his eyes. 'The first thing you ask is about what I did?'

'He said we looked horrid,' Aramis remarked making D'Artagnan smile.

'I wouldn't have gone that far...as you look far better than you did when you got back,' D'Artagnan replied cheekily.

'In answer to your question Porthos, he got shot,' Athos gave a small smirk.

'But it's healing,' D'Artagnan quickly interjected looking frazzled. The other three looked fondly towards the younger man.

'What...on...feet?' Porthos stammered out as the rush from the pain of his leg was ebbing.

'Onions,' Athos answered in a drawl.

'Onions?' Porthos instinctively looked to Aramis.

'Suck the badness out,' Aramis smiled as he was so glad his brother was awake.

'Remove,' Porthos said looking at Aramis.

'Your feet?' Aramis asked feigning shock. 'That's a bit drastic.'

At this point Porthos actually managed to roll his eyes as D'Artagnan laughed and Athos choked while trying to stop a laugh.

'You mean the onions?' Aramis gave his best relieved smile as Porthos managed to move his right arm enough to give the marksman a small whack before groaning.

D'Artagnan quickly moved to get a pain draught and they managed to help Porthos drink it and some water with a tangle of arms once more.

'Sleep mon ami,' Aramis gave a warm smile as Porthos blinked drowsily.

The door opened and Tréville came in with Constance in tow.

'About time,' he commented with a smile as he saw four pairs of eyes staring back at him.

* * *

 **A/N: This is still D'Artagnan's story and I'm aware he has been somewhat pushed back in the last few chapters but I felt it was necessary to deal with the others as well. I hope I haven't gone too out of character either.  
**

 **Please let me know what you think. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Apologies for the late update but I was unwell and then life got in the way as I got my final thesis printed and bound.**

 **This is a bit of a filler chapter and I'm still not sold on it but it is what it is.**

 **Thank you for the continued support with this fic with the reviews, follows and favourites. It is much appreciated. Charlie, I hope it was worth the wait and the constant looking. :)**

* * *

Tréville beamed at the sight of his men gathered around Porthos' bed. It seemed that the miracle that they had asked for had come to fruition. He strode further into the room as he was aware of the relieved sigh from Constance next to him.

'What time d'you call this?' he grinned at Porthos.

'Dunno time...dunno day,' Porthos huffed with a small smile.

'And what are you three doing out of bed?' Tréville did his best to look stern but the joy on all their faces made it difficult.

'I'm not supposed to be bedbound,' D'Artagnan smiled with a certain smugness.

'I only moved from there,' Aramis pointed to his bed to indicate it wasn't far.

'I asked Aramis to help me,' Athos deadpanned.

'Really?' Tréville crossed his arms and looked to Aramis for an explanation.

'He got up by himself,' Aramis sighed. 'He gave me that look, you know the one, which didn't give me a choice. Help him or watch him fall flat on his face,' Aramis stared at Athos as if daring the swordsman to contradict him.

'Athos?' Tréville was rather enjoying this.

'He's not wrong,' Athos drawled admitting Aramis was correct.

The atmosphere in the room was relaxed and happy and that was all Tréville cared about. He smiled as he realised Porthos had fallen asleep again.

'Right you three, breakfast,' Constance said looking like a woman you didn't argue with. D'Artagnan looked forlornly to his bed as he wouldn't be next to anyone to talk to while Porthos slept. 'D'Artagnan, take the chair,' she said with a sigh and pointed to the chair between Athos' and Aramis' beds.

D'Artagnan's demeanour brightened and Athos and Aramis shared a silent look. Constance managed to usher Aramis back to bed while Tréville helped a limping Athos back to his bed.

The atmosphere had truly changed with a positive outlook as all the Inseparables were now recovering.

* * *

Tréville ushered the chosen musketeers towards the podium where the King and Queen would be waiting for the Duke of Marseilles to arrive. He was feeling far more positive now that Porthos had finally woken. For all the trouble they caused him, and it was fair bit, Tréville was truly glad his best men were recovering. The attitude within the ranks had also brightened which led to a more positive moral.

'You seem happier Tréville,' Louis smiled as he moved towards the platform holding Queen Anne's hand.

'Porthos woke this morning,' Tréville smiled.

'Well that's excellent news,' Anne smiled broadly back. 'They'll be giving you trouble in the near future, I'm sure,' she gave a knowing smile. She was very glad that 'her musketeers' were recovering especially Aramis but she was well aware how important the others were to him as well.

'Aramis and Athos already are,' Tréville huffed a laugh. 'They are both terrible patients,' there was a fatherly tone attached to his comment. Queen Anne was struggling to suppress her laughter at that statement.

'Well that means they're getting better though,' Louis sat down on his throne. 'I do hope they get here soon,' he huffed already looking bored at having to wait for his guest.

'I have contacted my spies and hope to get some useful information soon,' Richelieu said as he passed by Tréville. The Captain gave a curt nod to show that he had heard.

* * *

Raymond continued to watch the garrison. It was emptier now than it had been before but there was still a lot of men milling about in the courtyard. He hadn't seen the musketeer he was looking for but he also knew he had to be careful and not arouse suspicion from the musketeers guarding the gate.

He decided to send one of his men to ask about D'Artagnan.

The chosen man looked terrified as he approached the guards on the gate.

'Can we help you?' one of the guards asked politely.

'I was wondering about a musketeer brought in injured, whether he was ok?' the man stammered.

The guards eyed him suspiciously. 'I'm afraid that we cannot divulge that information.'

The man nodded, his body shaking and walked away. Raymond cursed as he knew he was going to have to wait it out. If the young musketeer was injured he would likely remain in the garrison but Raymond would have to wait for an opportunity to strike. He just hoped that it wouldn't be too long.

* * *

The days passed and the Inseparables continued to recover. Constance had kept them under scrutiny while she could and it amused Tréville to see them looking abashed at Constance's ferocity when they tried to push their boundaries.

Porthos was still struggling with headaches and limited movement in his right leg while Athos was stubbornly refusing to accept that his left leg needed to heal. Aramis was trying to take care of everyone else while insisting his ribs weren't 'too bad' but when he thought no-one was looking he would wince. D'Artagnan was faring the best but even he tried to swing a sword before his right arm was ready causing him to yell with pain in the infirmary. This caused Aramis to move too quickly and swear himself as he tugged his ribs.

Constance was rather enjoying looking after 'her boys' although she thought actual children would be less hassle than those four. She knew she had to return home and she couldn't use any kind of excuse for her whereabouts. The staff would tell Jacques that she had been away and more than likely where she had been. She wasn't looking forward to the upcoming argument.

D'Artagnan had offered to accompany her but she had pointed out that his presence would be more of a hindrance than a help. She didn't want to leave but she knew she had to.

She arrived home to find that Jacques was already back as she could see the cart. She sighed as she entered the house hoping that her husband would not be in a foul mood. Her hopes were dashed as she entered the kitchen.

'So...' Jacques was stood leaning one arm on the fireplace. 'I leave town and you go straight to the musketeers. No you didn't go to them...you went to that wretch D'Artagnan!'

'I-,' Constance started to try and explain the situation.

'You are MY wife,' he stood to his full height which actually cast a rather strong silhouette. 'Have you forgotten that?'

'Can I speak?' Constance asked tersely. She had expected him to be angry but he was overreacting considering that he didn't know any details yet. She decided she wouldn't tell him the various states on undress that she had tended to the men. He wouldn't be happy about that, although the thought made her stifle a smile.

'Please do,' he answered scathingly.

'Captain Tréville asked me for my help,' she replied looking her husband straight in the eye with no guilt.

'So he will confirm this?' Bonacieux sneered.

'Yes,' Constance replied fiercely.

'What exactly did he need you for?' Bonacieux had changed his tone slightly and Constance knew that however she explained it he would not be happy that D'Artagnan was involved.

'D'Artagnan was injured on a mission-,' she started to explain.

'They have doctors for that!' Bonacieux interrupted her looking very angry.

'Yes, they do but he needed a friend as the others were thought to be dead!' she roared back as her anger started to overwhelm her.

Her tone and viciousness shocked Bonacieux as he tried to take in what she had said. He knew from the amount of times he had returned to find them in their home that D'Artagnan had a strong bond with the other three men. The Inseparables. He then noticed something.

'You said thought to be?' he asked in a calm tone as he watched Constance's anger ebb.

'When D'Artagnan returned he was injured,' Constance said as she sat down on a nearby chair. 'Soon after three badly burnt bodies were recovered. For a while it seemed that Athos, Porthos and Aramis were gone. D'Artagnan was distraught. His grief was overwhelming,' Constance sighed as she realised her grief had taken over as well but she couldn't say that to Jacques.

'But they are alive?' Bonacieux prodded in a rather gentle tone.

'Yes, but they were badly injured,' Constance finally looked up to her husband and found that the anger had gone from his face. 'The doctor didn't think all them would live.'

'You stayed and cared for them,' Bonacieux sighed as he realised that Constance hadn't deliberately gone against him and that she had merely acted out caring. Still, he was wary of how close she was to D'Artagnan.

'Yes, as the Captain asked me to,' Constance replied looking her husband straight in the eye.

There was a knock at the door and the one of the staff answered. Moments later Captain Tréville entered the room. For a moment Constance was worried but she soon relaxed as she analysed the Captain's face.

'Forgive the intrusion, Monsieur Bonacieux,' Tréville stated with as much sincerity as he could manage. 'I just wanted to drop by and offer this,' he held up a money purse, 'in gratitude for your wife's help during a very trying week.' Constance was doing her best not to laugh. She had never seen Tréville act like this. He was a man that got to the point rather than using charm. She briefly wondered if Aramis had given the Captain some tips.

'There is no need for money,' Constance started as she watched her husband from the corner of her eye. 'I was happy to help.' Bonacieux had suddenly stiffened his stance as he clearly wanted to take the money. This did not go unnoticed by Tréville.

'None the less, I have taken up your time and your skills. We are most grateful for your help,' Tréville's tone was warm yet authoritative. It did not go unnoticed by Constance that Tréville had said 'we'. 'I shall interrupt you no longer,' Tréville tipped his hat and turned to leave.

Constance followed him and once they were outside she spoke.

'Thank you,' she said as she was sure her husband hadn't followed.

'It was pointed out to me that your husband may not approve of you helping us,' Tréville looked far more like himself as he spoke honestly.

'He wasn't happy,' she agreed, 'but that doesn't mean you shouldn't ask for my help again.' Constance didn't want to be side-lined and her words made Tréville smile.

'Duly noted,' he gave her nod and disappeared.

* * *

Raymond continued to watch the garrison. He had determined who the Captain of the regiment was. He had heard Captain Tréville mentioned and clearly saw the older man giving orders. He was beginning to think that D'Artagnan had perished after the fight with his men. The young man was clearly injured in the fight and infection could have set in and taken him. If it was a minor injury he would surely have seen the young musketeer by now. These men were known to be tough.

Then it happened. He saw the young musketeer coming down a set of steps. He was cradling his right arm but he looked happy. He would surely be happy to be alive but Raymond knew he couldn't let that happen for much longer. Although D'Artagnan didn't know his name he was sure the musketeer would be able to recognise him and that in turn would put the Duke in danger. D'Artagnan had to die.

* * *

A few days later D'Artagnan was starting to do practice drills with his right hand. Gripping the sword still felt strange and his shoulder was protesting. He knew he had to be careful for two reasons. One: He could cause more damage if he tried to do too much. Two: The others would glare at him and give him a telling off for being stupid. Especially Aramis. Of course, none of them would notice the irony of how they were dealing with their own injuries. That made him chuckle.

'Hey lad,' Vasselin called over. 'Don't do too much.'

'I know, I know,' D'Artagnan with slight amusement. It seemed that while the other Inseparables couldn't watch him like a hawk, the rest of the regiment had decided to do so instead.

'Give it a rest for today, you're shaking,' Vasselin smiled and D'Artagnan noticed the tremor in his sword hand.

'Yeah,' Joubert agreed as he came over holding axe.

'What you doing with that?' D'Artagnan asked curiously.

'Oh this,' Joubert unnecessarily brought the axe to the forefront. 'I'm going on a secret killing spree, so don't tell anyone,' Joubert winked as both D'Artagnan and Vasselin roared with laughter. D'Artagnan was so glad that he could laugh now.

'Go shopping,' Vasselin said quietly. 'You know how they like their apples.' D'Artagnan didn't need to ask who 'they' were as Vasselin and Joubert disappeared.

D'Artagnan decided he would go and buy some apples and some wine. He would never be forgiven if he returned without wine! He went back up to the infirmary to collect his things.

As he entered he found Gabriel sat on Aramis' bed talking to all three of his brothers.

'There he is,' Gabriel smiled as D'Artagnan came in.

'Please tell me you went easy on it,' Aramis looked as though he was prepared for the worst.

'It's alright, I've got three shadows,' D'Artagnan replied hoping to be cryptic but it seemed that everyone in the room knew what he meant.

'Vasselin or Joubert?' Gabriel asked with a smirk.

'Vasselin,' D'Artagnan answered simply. 'Although Joubert said he's going on a killing spree later,' he laughed and the others did too.

'You what I find ironic?' Gabriel asked as he moved from the end of Aramis' bed. He received questioning looks. 'You lot always try to get out of the infirmary as quickly as possible but this time you're all happy to stay here for days on end.'

'Porthos isn't ready to leave,' Aramis stated with a smile.

'End of discussion,' Athos added with a wry smile.

'You lot are weird,' Gabriel tried to keep a straight face but smiled at his words before he left.

'Where are you going?' Porthos asked D'Artagnan as the younger man collected his pistol and dagger. He noticed how clean his pistol was and that the dagger had been sharpened. He suspected that both Aramis and Athos had been bored and decided to some cleaning and sharpening.

'Shopping,' D'Artagnan answered with a smile. 'I will come back with wine,' he added as he got a knowing look from Athos which made Porthos and Aramis laugh. D'Artagnan was happy to hear their laughs and see Athos' expressions.

D'Artagnan left the garrison feeling hopeful. From the despair that had set in just over a week ago to the joy of having his brothers back, he was feeling good about life.

He passed by the Bonacieux house and desperately tried to see Constance but she wasn't outside. He hoped the Captain had managed to smooth things over for her as Bonacieux could be a jealous man indeed.

It was the only thing that made him sad. He was still struggling to understand why Constance would stay with her husband when it made her unhappy. Made both of them unhappy.

He shook it from his mind as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around and saw many people milling around him but he couldn't shake the thought that he was being watched.

He continued into the market and was feeling better at finally being away from the garrison. There was life outside the garrison and it was colourful and full of noise. He moved through the market place as he saw a variety of goods on offer. He was looking for some apples when he felt it again. He was being watched. He was sure of it.

Without warning a fight broke out in the market and D'Artagnan was in two minds what to do. He wasn't fit enough to help, really, but he was a musketeer. Suddenly he dropped the basket he was carrying as the back of his doublet was pulled by strong arms.

He writhed and struggled but soon became aware that there was more than one person trying to restrain him. He was dragged into an alley where there were no people and forced to his knees. His shoulder burned with pain as he was held in place and he grimaced as he tried to breathe slowly.

He heard footsteps approaching. Slow and methodical, the sign that the person was confident and assured. D'Artagnan lifted his head and recognised the man instantly. Raymond was his name. He knew that now.

'Hello, D'Artagnan,' Raymond gave a wicked smile.

* * *

 **A/N: I will hopefully get the next chapter updated by Monday if not earlier. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'll be honest, this chapter went in a slightly different direction than I thought and I didn't get as far as I thought.**

 **I still hope it's enjoyable. :)**

 **Warning: Some swear words in this.**

* * *

D'Artagnan stared stoically back at Raymond, determined to not show the pain he was in or the fear that had started to creep into his mind. He was alone and he knew it. He briefly wondered why his shadows had left him, now of all times. The shadows that had seemed claustrophobic only an hour ago were now desperately needed. He saw his sword, dagger and pistol lying on the ground about three feet away. He had to stifle the smile as the irony of his situation hit home.

'Do you know who I am, D'Artagnan?' Raymond asked as he crouched in front of the musketeer.

D'Artagnan was about to reply that he knew exactly who Raymond was but then realised that Raymond may not know about Athos, Porthos and Aramis. He had to protect them if he could and the only way he would know Raymond's name was if they had told him.

'You're the bastard that attacked us on the way back from Bordeaux,' D'Artagnan snarled. Raymond's smirk said it all. 'You killed my friends!'

'Yes,' Raymond gave a small chuckle. 'They died screaming on that pyre. And you, in turn, killed the men I sent after you.'

D'Artagnan already knew that Raymond hadn't heard anything of the sort as his brothers were safe and mostly well now. The men his brothers had killed were dead when they were placed on the pyre. Raymond didn't know they were alive and D'Artagnan silently vowed he would not betray their lives to Raymond, even if it cost him his.

'Who are you?' D'Artagnan asked as he tried to stall for time and think of a way out his predicament. His shoulder was hurting badly now as he was being held at an awkward angle. He could still hear the disturbance in the market and knew it would be unlikely that anyone would find him soon. Even if the red guards did find him, would they help?

Raymond considered the musketeer for a moment. He could tell him. It wasn't as if he would be able to tell anyone else.

'My name is Raymond,' he stated. 'Shame you didn't just hand over the letter. Your friends might still be alive.'

'I doubt that,' D'Artagnan spat back.

Raymond found the younger man's defiance interesting and amusing. He was similar in his ways to the three men he had been travelling with. Those men were all clearly very close.

'You'll see them soon enough,' Raymond gave an evil grin and D'Artagnan barely managed to brace himself for the punch that was thrown his way. He was breathing heavily and could taste blood where his teeth had caught his cheek.

He wasn't prepared for the ruthless kick Raymond sent his way. His ribs protested as the men holding him let go and he crashed to the floor. He didn't think his ribs were broken but he could see how Aramis had ended up with broken ribs.

Raymond stood back as another man approached holding a dagger. D'Artagnan felt himself being pulled up into a kneeling position as he struggled to break free. He couldn't and watched the man approach with trepidation.

The blade was nearing the musketeer's throat and D'Artagnan felt fear flood over him. The roles would now be reversed. So many thing crossed his mind in that instant. How upset would his brothers be? Would they be as upset as he was at the prospect of their deaths? Would they be able to continue on as before? Would they seek revenge before they were fit enough to do so? Would they get themselves killed by trying to avenge him too soon?

The blade was almost at his throat and D'Artagnan tried one last time to shrug off his captors but it was to no avail. He felt the blade start to slice his neck and knew it would soon be over. Would he ever be found? Well he would be found but would the musketeers ever know what happened?

BANG!

The noise sounded muffled to D'Artagnan but he quickly realised that the sound was a pistol shot. He was suddenly released and the sound of running footsteps could be heard. He was suddenly alone and had to hold himself up. In front of him the man with the dagger was falling to the side. His eyes were dilated and the dagger had fallen from his hand and it clattered slowly to the ground. As the man fell a familiar figure could be seen.

'Gabriel!' the man shouted. 'He's here!'

The ginger hair, green eyes and freckles were so familiar. The voice too which now seemed full of panic.

'D'Artagnan?' Marchal looked D'Artagnan over and could see the bruise starting to blossom on D'Artagnan's cheek and the cut on his neck. 'D'Artagnan?' Marchal's voice was full of urgency as D'Artagnan finally registered that he had been saved.

'D'Artagnan,' Gabriel appeared and shook the younger man's shoulder.

'How did you know?' D'Artagnan asked slurring his words slightly.

'We know your knack for getting into trouble so we went looking for you,' Gabriel smiled.

'Seems you needed us as well,' Marchal smiled back.

'Come on, let's get back in the open,' Gabriel lifted D'Artagnan under one arm while Marchal took the other. D'Artagnan hissed in pain as his shoulder was tugged but nobody said anything as the moved into the market.

Some of the stalls had been destroyed and D'Artagnan knew this was a diversion set up by Raymond to occupy the musketeers and red guards nearby. It seemed the man was intent on removing the last witness, well, the man he thought was the last witness.

Steadily D'Artagnan managed to regain the use of his legs as the sense of slow motion ebbed and he could walk again. His breathing was hitching due to Raymond's kick and his shoulder and face were hurting. He was fully aware of the looks Gabriel and Marchal were sending his way. He wondered what had happened to his empty basket until he saw Marchal carrying it. He really should get some wine as Raymond's men hadn't taken any of his money. He remembered his weapons and then found Gabriel carrying them and felt relief wash over him.

'No, they can live without wine,' Gabriel said with a smirk as he saw right through D'Artagnan's thoughts.

'Have you met Athos?' D'Artagnan shot back as he started to feel better.

'I'll tell him you said that!' Gabriel chuckled. Marchal gave a small smile but he was clearly worried about his friend.

They entered the garrison and made their way up to the infirmary. D'Artagnan stared at the ground as he knew people were looking at him. It was only Aramis' voice that made him look up.

'What happened?' the marksman was out of bed and next to D'Artagnan in moments.

'I'm fine,' D'Artagnan mumbled although he was glad that Aramis was there.

'Fine?' Gabriel did his best exasperated impression. 'You lot have got to stop teaching him your bad habits,' he scolded the other three Inseparables who all promptly smiled.

'I believe he already had that one,' Athos' drawl made D'Artagnan smile.

'Yeah, nothing to do with us,' Porthos agreed. D'Artagnan looked across and saw Porthos smiling broadly.

He was suddenly being steered towards his own bed by Aramis who had clearly had enough of the banter and wanted to check D'Artagnan over. It did not go unnoticed how D'Artagnan was breathing raggedly or that he was again cradling his right arm.

D'Artagnan decided it was best to submit to Aramis' prodding and that the man would never believe him if he just told him what was wrong.

'Well, you've got bruised ribs that's for sure but I don't think they're broken,' Aramis announced. 'That will swell,' he pointed to D'Artagnan's cheek which was already looking puffy, 'but again I don't think your cheekbone is broken,' he prodded making D'Artagnan hiss.

Aramis moved away grumbling about cleaning the cut on D'Artagnan's neck while D'Artagnan was trying to decide how to tell them all that Raymond was responsible without them leaving straight away when they were in no condition to do so.

Aramis had finally finished cleaning the wound but it didn't need stitches and had stopped bleeding so he had decided against a bandage.

As soon as Aramis had finished Athos promptly asked, 'Who did this?'

D'Artagnan sighed as he felt all three of his brothers looking for an answer. 'Raymond,' he sighed.

'What?!' three shocked voices chimed in unison.

'He's in Paris and wants to get rid of the last witness,' D'Artagnan sighed.

Before anyone else could speak footsteps could be heard on the steps leading up to infirmary and the door opened to reveal Tréville and, somewhat surprisingly, the Cardinal.

'Too late,' Tréville sighed as took one look at D'Artagnan.

'I assume, Raymond did this to you?' the Cardinal looked serious and D'Artagnan nodded. 'My information tells me that Raymond has been told to kill you to eliminate the final witness. It seems I got the information too late.'

'He does work for the Duke of Lorraine then,' Athos stated and the Cardinal nodded.

'I'll rip 'im apart!' Porthos growled although everybody present was well aware that the big musketeer could currently do no such thing.

'We have to find him,' Aramis said looking determined.

'No,' D'Artagnan said quickly as everybody looked to him. 'He doesn't know that you're alive. If he did he would hunt all of you too.'

'He's already hunting you so he already hunting us,' Athos stated plainly with an air of no argument.

'Be that as it may it would be best to keep that knowledge from him,' Tréville said quietly. 'We have an advantage while we have knowledge he doesn't.'

'I agree. He will try again but now all of you are forewarned,' Richelieu said dismissively. 'I have the red guards looking for him and Tréville you should send a few musketeers out as well just to make it look good. I doubt we will see a man like that until he wants to be seen. He will try again but this time we can be ready.' Richelieu turned with a swish of his cloak and left the infirmary.

'I'm not sure what's more disturnbin'...D'Artagnan gettin' beat up or Richelieu saying he'll help,' Porthos said with a twinkle of mischief in eyes.

After a moment's pause laughter rang around the room and Porthos' comment

'One thought occurs to me,' Athos raised an eyebrow at D'Artagnan. 'Where's my wine?'

Laughter again rang through the room and D'Artagnan felt a lot better knowing that Athos would joke about something like that when they were facing a madmen who wanted to kill him. Or was Athos joking? D'Artagnan could see Athos' expressionless look but, as was often the case with Athos, his eyes gave him away. The amusement was clear in those striking blue eyes.

* * *

Raymond tossed the table over in a fit of anger with a roar that would inflict fear into most men. How could that young musketeer evade him again?! The worst thing was that D'Artagnan now knew his name. He would surely tell his superiors and that would make him the most wanted man in Paris! The Duke could never find out. Raymond took a deep breath and realised that he had not mentioned the Duke and there were many men in Paris called Raymond. This wasn't as bad as it first appeared. He needed to lay low for a while.

He thought abpout lying and going back, telling the Duke that D'Artagnan was dead but that would not satisfy his need to kill the young man. Nobody gets away a third time. Well, before the musketeer nobody had gotten away twice! He knew he would have to be patient now. He had already seen the musketeers and red guards searching for him but they couldn't continue such a search for long and he had a place to hide. Waiting was his strength and he would wait until D'Artagnan was there for the taking.

* * *

A week passed and D'Artagnan's injuries were healing well and he was back out in the courtyard practising. The searches conducted by the musketeers and red guards had come up short and no-one had any idea where Raymond could be. However, it was acknowledged that Raymond would most likely keep an eye on the garrison so allowing D'Artagnan to be seen was important in luring the man into the open.

Aramis had originally dismissed the plan as D'Artagnan could easily be shot and killed by Raymond if he was watching. It was only when Athos pointed out that Raymond would be unlikely to get close enough for the shot to be accurate and he would have the garrison chasing him in seconds that Aramis conceded it could work. Porthos also pointed out that just because Aramis could make the shot that didn't mean anyone else could.

They had all agreed to keep Constance away from the garrison. They didn't want her involved in this and Tréville had visited under the impression that he was just visiting her to update her on their progress. Thankfully, Bonacieux hadn't been there and Tréville had managed to update her on everything that had happened. She was shocked by what had happened but knew she had to stay away. Her husband had been placated with the coins but she didn't want to test his patience.

There was one problem with the plan though. The three original Inseparables were getting restless. They had agreed that they should be confined to the infirmary to keep their existence as quite as possible. Tréville had taken groups of the musketeers up to his office to explain there should be limited chat about them to keep them safe. All were recovering well and that was becoming a problem.

Aramis' ribs were healing as were the wounds on his arm and leg. He was trying to keep himself busy which was irritating the other two because he had nothing else to do except treat them. His pistols were spotless as were everybody else's and for some reason the infirmary was now cleaner than it had ever been.

Athos was also suffering. His left leg was healing better than expected but he wasn't a very patient man at the best of times. He would often test the leg when he could and then received the end of Aramis' short temper for being and idiot and trying to do too much too soon. Athos had also taken to sharpening all the blades in the room with a slow and methodical process to eat away time.

Porthos was finally feeling better. His head hardly hurt anymore but he was becoming exasperated watching Aramis' and Athos' antics. His leg was also healing but he tried to use it too quickly which earned another piercing glare from Aramis. He was finding solace in knitting to while the time away. He wondered whether they would be there long enough to knit scarfs for everybody.

Tréville was doing what he could to keep them occupied and was becoming worried when he offered them the job of peeling potatoes and they eagerly accepted. Peeling potatoes was usually a punishment. They had to get Raymond soon or the garrison would probably be doing a good impression of an insane asylum. Well, the infirmary would.

D'Artagnan was practising in the courtyard when he felt the same feeling he had felt in the marketplace. He was being watched. He momentarily forgot he was practicing with Joubert and was lucky that the musketeer was skilled enough not hit him.

'What is it?' Joubert asked quietly as he avoided slicing D'Artagnan's ear off by mistake.

'He's watching,' D'Artagnan said as he lunged forward and they continued to spar. They continued to fight with both men trying to catch a glimpse of the man while trying not to make it obvious that they were looking.

'He was definitely there,' D'Artagnan huffed as he sat down and drank some water. 'I could feel it, like I did in the marketplace.'

'Then it will be soon,' Joubert said grimly. 'I'll let the Captain know,' he said as he moved towards the stairs.

D'Artagnan stared out of the garrison gate knowing that Raymond would come and this time he would be ready. The problem for Raymond though, was that D'Artagnan had something he didn't. His brothers.

* * *

 **A/N: I originally planned the next chapter to be the last. Currently, I'm not sure if it will be but it might be. Just to let you know.**


	10. Chapter 10

**This is rather sad as this is the final chapter of this fic. This fic ended up being a bit longer than I originally thought and was very emotiotional to write. I hope that I kept the same standard throughout and I hope you enjoy it. :)**

 **Warning: Contains some battle violence.**

* * *

Three days later it happened. The majority of the Musketeer regiment had gone hunting with King, including Captain Tréville. The Captain had been reluctant to leave but he was also aware that it was his duty to be at the King's side. The Musketeer numbers were therefore greatly reduced in the garrison.

D'Artagnan had spent a lot of time in the infirmary with the others trying to work out possible ways for Raymond to attack. They all knew that, due to injury, any attack outside the garrison would mean other musketeers needed to be involved. Currently, the other Inseparables weren't even entertaining the prospect of D'Artagnan leaving the safety of the garrison. D'Artagnan was becoming somewhat annoyed by his brothers' need to keep him safe, even though he did appreciate it.

Although it was unlikely Raymond would attack within the garrison walls, it would be preferable for his brothers to have a chance at helping. At least that was what they said. D'Artagnan was secretly hoping the attack would be outside as they wouldn't be at risk at all but he had to find a way to get himself out of the garrison without them knowing. Easy right?

They were all in the infirmary when panicked shouts could be heard from the courtyard below. D'Artagnan looked out into the courtyard from the window and could see Gabriel ordering everyone about in an authoritative manner. The musketeer saw D'Artagnan watching and quickly made his way up the stairs.

'What's happened?' D'Artagnan asked with a feeling of dread causing his stomach to clench as Gabriel entered the infirmary.

'Deserted houses are on fire a mile or so away,' Gabriel panted but his eyes showed that he didn't think this was a coincidence. 'Red Guards are already there but we need to help put the fire out before anyone gets hurt.'

'He's coming,' Athos said simply as he stood and put on his sword belt. Porthos and Aramis followed suit.

'We need everybody for it,' Gabriel looked totally out of his depth. 'We can't leave the garrison unguarded though.'

'It won't be,' Porthos growled before smirking.

'It'll just look like it,' Aramis smiled that smile which said he was relishing a fight.

'Are you sure about this?' Gabriel questioned but was met with resolute stares. They would deal with Raymond.

'Get everybody out,' Athos said with an authoritative tone. 'Raymond will not spare anyone.'

Leaving the garrison unattended was something Tréville always stressed should never happen, but this was different and it wasn't as if the garrison would have no-one in it.

Gabriel was wary but realised the decision had already been made and not by him. 'We'll be back as soon as possible,' he declared as he left.

* * *

Raymond watched from the side-lines as the musketeers flocked out of the garrison to help with the fire his men had started. For once he had thought it better to burn an empty house instead of a full one. He didn't need any more potential crimes on his head. He just needed to kill the musketeer and go. If anyone else got in the way, then they would die too.

He waited until the musketeers were far off in the distance before making his way into the garrison. Thankfully, all of the locals were distracted by the news of the fire and nobody was paying any attention to him and his men. He hadn't recognised D'Artagnan in the group that had vacated the garrison although some faces had been recognisable.

He peered around the garrison entrance and could see the place was deserted. It appeared that even the stable boy was gone. He felt his senses rise. D'Artagnan was clearly not a fool but he wasn't anywhere near full strength yet, which was why he had been left behind.

'D'Artagnan!' he called in a sing-song voice. 'Come out, come out, wherever you are!' Raymond kept his pistol close and watched the infirmary.

He had noticed that D'Artagnan spent a lot of time in that building and he had seen no-one else occupy the room while he had been watching. The only way anyone else was in there was if they had been severely injured before Raymond had started his watch. If that was the case then any man in that condition would not be a threat.

He beckoned his seven men forward and they stalked the courtyard. D'Artagnan would only have one shot, possibly two before his men could open fire themselves. There was no way the boy was getting out of this.

'D'Artagnan!' Raymond called again. 'Your friends wouldn't want you dying like a coward, would they?' Raymond waited for a reaction.

The door to the infirmary opened and shots were discharged from Raymond's men but just the door was wounded.

'Eight against one, isn't exactly in my favour,' D'Artagnan called from behind the stone wall of the infirmary.

'True,' Raymond smiled wickedly and put his pistol back in his belt. 'Put your firearms away,' he said to the others and D'Artagnan peered around the doorframe.

D'Artagnan noticed that those that had discharged their weapons hadn't reloaded. Big mistake.

'Come out D'Artagnan,' Raymond called in a sing-song voice again. 'It's only you I want. You're friend doesn't have to suffer.'

D'Artagnan felt his heart sink as this had not been foreseen. He moved into the open and watched as a badly beaten Marchal was dragged forward and dumped on his knees. The young musketeer had clear wounds to his face, most likely from punches and was clutching his chest.

'I'm sorry,' D'Artagnan thought he heard Marchal mutter before he was kicked to silence him.

'This one doesn't have to die like the others,' Raymond crowed as D'Artagnan slowly made his way down the infirmary steps. D'Artagnan seriously doubted that.

'Don't-' Marchal managed to get out before he was kicked again and groaned in pain.

'I'll even let you choose how to die,' Raymond looked positively gleeful. 'Sword fight?'

'Ten against two, well,' D'Artagnan looked at Marchal, 'one, hardly seems fair.'

'You'll die better than your friends who were thrown on a pyre while they lived,' Raymond replied with a sneer. 'Don't think anyone is coming to help you and drop your pistol on the floor, there's a good lad.'

'You believe that you will win, don't you?' D'Artagnan asked playfully. His pistol was still on his belt as he walked in front of Raymond and then started moving to the left. The men followed him and turned so that they were no longer looking directly at the infirmary but not quite side on to it. D'Artagnan deliberately pulled his pistol out of his belt. 'You too,' he nodded as he still held the weapon.

'D'Artagnan,' Raymond said with an annoying simper. 'I win or I die. I'm not dead,' he shrugged and grinned as he threw his pistol to the floor and D'Artagnan followed suit.

'Not yet, anyway,' D'Artagnan replied with his own knowing smile.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Six shots fired off in quick succession from the infirmary window and doorway. Raymond and his men turned to see what had happened, well four of them did as six men now lay on the ground either dead or severely injured.

Raymond was about to let out a frustrated roar when he felt D'Artagnan tackle him to the ground. Both men letting out a groan of pain as they hit the hard ground and the air was momentarily forced from their lungs.

Marchal quickly managed to reach for one of his captors daggers while the man was distracted and thrust the dagger into the man's leg causing the man to howl in pain. The two remaining men fled form the garrison as fast as they could run.

D'Artagnan was grappling fiercely with Raymond who seemed unaware that he was the only man left. He was getting the better of the younger musketeer whose shoulder now felt as though it may explode.

Suddenly, D'Artagnan felt the weight lift off him and a familiar growl could be heard. Porthos threw Raymond away from D'Artagnan with a powerful throw and offered a hand to pull D'Artagnan up to his feet.

Raymond shook his head. He was winded and he tried to regain his breath. He looked over to see who had the audacity, never mind the strength, to throw him like that and his face paled at what he saw. Those men were dead.

'But you're dead!' Raymond said in disbelief at what he was seeing.

'Hello Raymond,' Athos said in a polite voice as though he was greeting a friend. His blue eyes however, made it clear that he furious with the man lying before him.

'Wish we could say it was good to see you again,' Aramis smiled and cocked his head to left slightly. Though the gaze of the brown eyes was not quite as fierce as the blue, Raymond could clearly see the anger and disgust.

'But that would be a lie,' Porthos growled with no fake smile or indifference. Porthos was clearly very angry.

D'Artagnan was stood between Porthos and Aramis with a dark look on his face that made Raymond appreciate how close these men truly were. Aramis then turned and moved across to Marchal who was sat on the ground looking rather worn out.

'What are you going to do?' Raymond spat at them.

'Arrest you,' Athos said in a bored voice. 'I'm sure the Cardinal would like a word and his men have methods of making you talk.'

Raymond blanched slightly at the suggestion of torture as it also became apparent that the Duke would be under surveillance no matter what as he had stupidly divulged the information to these men.

BANG! BANG!

The sound of running footsteps accompanied the pistol shots and Aramis was the first to return fire. The men that had run away had found their comrades who had set fire to the deserted house as a distraction for the musketeers and red guards. The men were covered in soot.

Raymond was glad he had called for reinforcements as he tried to dive for the pistol he had thrown away earlier but D'Artagnan kicked it away. Raymond stumbled backwards to give himself time to unsheathe his sword. D'Artagnan stood in front of him with his sword already drawn.

D'Artagnan knew that with his sore shoulder a proper fight may leave him out of action for a while but beating Raymond and wiping that smirk of his face would be worth the pain. He looked across and saw the others fighting. Athos and Porthos were clearly hampered by their injured legs and yet, D'Artagnan knew they would win. Aramis was doing his best to protect Marchal who finally seemed to have run out of energy.

D'Artagnan saw Aramis pick up his thrown away pistol and successfully kill one of the men they were fighting. It was only then that it occurred to D'Artagnan that the shot men who hadn't died straight away must have been finished off by his brothers without him noticing.

D'Artagnan became aware that there were many men in the courtyard. Far more foes than friends. He quickly blocked Raymond's first attack and D'Artagnan told himself to concentrate.

'I called for reinforcements when I realised I would have to attack the garrison,' Raymond sneered as he lunged forward and D'Artagnan darted out of the way.

D'Artagnan could see Athos, Porthos and Aramis all fighting two to one and Marchal was now sat on the ground looking as though he was dizzy and wasn't of much use.

D'Artagnan managed to deflect another attack and realised he needed to concentrate. Athos had been working with him to use his left hand in sword fighting but he wasn't a patch on his right handed skill. He was now truly beginning to see Athos' point about being able to use both hands equally.

His right arm was hurting now but he had to block out the pain and deal with Raymond and trust that the others would find a way to win their respective battles.

Raymond was overconfident, that was clear to D'Artagnan. D'Artagnan knew he could only win this fight by using his brain as his skill was limited due to his injury. His stamina wouldn't last as long as Raymond either.

Raymond attacked and D'Artagnan parried away the strike. Raymond decided this fight needed to be over and started attacking quickly and precisely. D'Artagnan watched and analysed as Athos had taught him to do while continuing to block the flurry of attacks.

Raymond tended to put a lot of his weight on the front foot which meant he was always close to overbalancing. Aramis caught D'Artagnan with that on his first day in training. Raymond was also dropping his trailing shoulder which made D'Artagnan smile.

For a few moments only D'Artagnan and Raymond existed. D'Artagnan had analysed the man's fighting style while relying on his own instincts. He had to take advantage. Now.

Raymond watched the musketeer greedily. The young man could barely hold his sword. This would be easy.

D'Artagnan focused and deflected a couple of Raymond's swipes. The man was now charging too quickly and without thought as D'Artagnan made sure his feet would stay underneath him so he could keep his balance.

Raymond lunged again, eager to put an end to the fight, but D'Artagnan blocked and forced Raymond's blade upwards. D'Artagnan could feel the pain in his shoulder blade as he pulled it further than he had since he had been injured. Raymond was trying to force his blade down on D'Artagnan's and his balance was starting to waver.

D'Artagnan pirouetted underneath his outstretched right arm, beneath the clashing swords so that his back was towards Raymond's chest. D'Artagnan then elbowed a surprised Raymond in the chest before unsheathing his dagger and plunging it into the blonde man's chest. Raymond's eyes widened in shock as he released his sword and fumbled for the dagger protruding from his chest.

D'Artagnan watched silently as Raymond fell backwards, clutching at the instrument that would end his life. Raymond hit the ground and started to cough up blood but D'Artagnan just watched. The man who had tried, and thankfully failed, to kill his brothers was dying in front of him, just as he had imagined.

D'Artagnan's senses returned to him and he heard to commotion around him. At first fear struck him as he saw Porthos and Athos sitting on the ground while Aramis was bent double and gasping for breath. D'Artagnan's fears abated when he heard Athos speak.

'We had everything under control,' Athos huffed from his place on the ground.

'Yeah, that's what it looked like,' Vasselin's cheerful sarcasm was welcome. He was stood beside two corpses and there were flecks of blood on his uniform but he was mainly covered in soot.

'We were fine,' Porthos said but it was clear the big man was grateful.

D'Artagnan looked around and finally noticed Gabriel and Joubert as well, both looking rather black with soot with red spot decorations.

'Why can't you lot admit you needed us?' Joubert sounded half exasperated and half amused.

'That would be admitting defeat,' Aramis chimed with a hitch in his breath.

'Anybody gonna say thank you?' Gabriel ventured looking at them all. The four Inseparables exchanged looks.

'Thank you,' was the chorus.

Aramis wandered over to D'Artagnan who was clutching his arm. 'Don't tell me...it's fine,' Aramis smirked while D'Artagnan sighed.

'Actually, it really hurts,' D'Artagnan answered truthfully making Aramis smile.

'Well, he's dead,' Porthos stated the obvious as he shook Raymond not too gently.

'I thought the Cardinal wanted to question him,' Athos said with his usual drawl.

'Bit late for that,' Aramis smiled as D'Artagnan grimaced at the marksman's prodding.

Horse's hooves could be heard and they all turned to the garrison entrance as Captain Tréville entered. He dismounted and looked around.

'So...this is what happens when I leave the garrison in your hands,' Tréville quipped but he was struggling to contain the smirk that threatened to emerge on his face.

'In our defence, you left Gabriel, Vasselin and Joubert in charge,' Athos deadpanned straight at Tréville trying to ignore the looks from the three mentioned members of the garrison.

'And yet, it is you four I'm looking at,' Tréville stepped in front of Athos and turned individually to the other three before looking back at Athos.

Laughter erupted around the courtyard as Vasselin couldn't stop himself and the effect was infectious, even Marchal, who looked as though he could sleep for a week, was laughing quietly.

'What happened to you three?' Tréville asked as he saw the state of Vasselin, Gabriel and Joubert.

'Fire in deserted houses, about a mile away,' Gabriel answered before giving Tréville precise directions. Tréville sent a group of the returning musketeers to the site of the fire.

'I assume this is...was Raymond,' the Captain said looking down at the body. D'Artagnan bent down and removed his dagger form Raymond's chest.

'I killed him,' D'Artagnan said quietly as Athos limped over and stood beside the younger man as a reassuring presence.

'Best get him to the Cardinal,' Tréville smiled as the Inseparables moved towards the stables. 'Where do you think you're going?'

'We're coming with you,' Aramis said cheerfully and Tréville knew better than to argue with them. At times they could be the most stubborn of men.

* * *

Somehow Athos had managed to get himself on his horse but Tréville didn't dare ask how. All of them were hurting but their resolve was far stronger than the pain. They arrived at the palace having had Raymond's body brought in a cart by Vasselin who said he had no intention of staying to see the Cardinal. Tréville managed to get four red guards to carry the covered body but they didn't look happy about being given orders by the Musketeer Captain.

Tréville noted how his men showed very little sign of their recent injuries as they walked through the palace corridors. He just hoped that Louis wouldn't expect them back on duty too soon if he saw them.

They found the Cardinal in conversation with the King and Queen in the library. Tréville told the red guards to wait outside.

'Ah Captain Tréville, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon after the hunt,' Louis was looking happier after the hunting hadn't gone particularly well earlier. Queen Anne's eyes were on the four men following the Captain.

'I have news about Raymond,' Tréville announced deciding that he just wanted to get to the point.

'What news?' the Cardinal answered although it looked as though he already knew from his expression.

'He's dead,' Trévile answered bluntly. 'He attacked the garrison this afternoon and was killed along with his men.'

'I needed him alive!' Richelieu flounced. 'I needed the information on Lorraine.'

'Regretfully it was not possible to apprehend Raymond or his men alive,' Tréville stated as Louis looked somewhat amused by the war of words between Richelieu and Tréville. This was sometimes the best entertainment.

'Who killed him?' Richelieu asked directing his gaze to the Inseparables.

'I did,' D'Artagnan answered. The atmosphere was tense and Queen Anne sighed.

'Perhaps we should remember that we know that Raymond worked for the Duke of Lorraine and your spies, Cardinal, can relay the information without the Duke being suspicious,' Queen Anne commented as everyone turned their attention to her. 'I assume all of the men were caught?'

'We believe so,' Tréville answered, 'but I still have men searching to see if there were any more men that started the fire. Certainly all of the men that entered the garrison are dead.'

'Fire?' Louis asked and Tréville explained all of the circumstance that had occurred in the past few hours.

Queen Anne was watching the other musketeers who were all now starting to show signs of discomfort. She could see that they were all hurting but she could barely contain her joy at seeing them alive after believing the worst not so long ago.

'What am I supposed to do with the body?' she was drawn out of her thought by the Cardinal's exclamation.

'Whatever you want,' Tréville responded with a sigh. The Captain just wanted to get away now and his irritation had become clear.

The musketeers turned to leave but stopped as Queen Anne approached. 'I just wanted to say that I'm glad you are all recovering and I hope you take some more time to rest,' she smiled at man individually with her gaze lingering slightly on Aramis. 'Oh,' she smiled touching her stomach. 'Someone agrees with me.'

'Thank you, Your Majesty,' Aramis answered and the others nodded before they turned and left. Athos saw Aramis look back again before the marksman noticed his friend's glare and proceeded to look where he was going.

Moments later Tréville was called back by a red guard as Richelieu wanted to speak to him in private. The Captain sighed and shook his head slightly.

'All of you get back to the garrison and rest,' he ordered as he headed towards the Cardinal's office with a scowl.

'I'd love to be a fly on that wall,' Porthos chuckled quietly as they exited the palace.

* * *

They all managed to mount their horses, Athos with the aid of a nearby stool, and headed for home. Along the way they passed a tavern and Athos suddenly remembered something.

'You never did get my wine,' he said offhandedly to D'Artagnan with a raised eyebrow. Aramis and Porthos chuckled beside them as D'Artagnan sighed and then dismounted.

Athos handed him some coins and said, 'Get enough for all of us,' before they decided to ride on leaving D'Artagnan outside the tavern.

Normally, D'Artagnan would feel slightly put out by the idea of ferrying wine to his friends, but the fact that he was being asked to ferry wine was a good thing as it meant his brothers were alive. He'd take it, for now.

He quickly bought the wine and placed the bottles in his saddlebags and decided to walk the short distance back to the garrison. It had been a difficult few weeks in which he had experienced a range of emotions. The devastation of his brothers' deaths, before the joy of finding out that they were alive but the worry as they were still on the brink of death, and then the relief at their subsequent recovery.

He passed by the Bonacieux house and saw Constance taking in the washing. They exchanged smiles but that was all as Bonacieux had his back to D'Artagnan and the musketeer thought it best not to attract attention from the merchant. He would try and get a message to her so that she knew they were all recovering but he knew he would have to be careful.

The garrison came into view as D'Artagnan realised he had arrived without really paying attention to where he was going. He looked across at the table which had been empty when he thought Athos, Porthos and Aramis were dead. The table at that moment and characterised the emptiness of his life without them. Now they were again seated around it smiling and laughing, well as close as Athos ever really got to smiling and laughing, filling D'Artagnan's life again. Porthos spotted him and waved him over as he removed the bottles of wine from his saddlebags.

D'Artagnan pondered, as he wandered over to his friends, how an inanimate object could reflect his life so accurately. As he sat down next to Athos he realised that his life without these men would be empty while with them in it his life was complete, almost. He hoped that their table would never be truly empty again, well at least until they were old and grey and had lived their lives to the full.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that this chapter ended this story on a high note. I have truly enjoyed writing it. I could have extended it but I felt I would be doing so just for the sake of it, but it means a lot that many of you did want it to continue. (It was a difficult choice to end it.)**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited it means a lot to know that you are enjoying the story. Currently, it is the musketeer fic with the highest number of favourites that I have written so far. I'm happy you have enjoyed my first mutli-chapter fic with D'Artagnan at the centre.**

 **I wish you all well and maybe I will write another fic soon. Thanks again. xx**


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